Rising Above

I’m kind of at a crossroads. Should I just get a random job and focus on storm chasing? Or should I focus on contributing something to science? It seems like a recurring theme, especially in the last three years, has been wanting to go to grad school to study neuroscience or pharmacology. I keep coming to this conclusion and then getting distracted by something. Whether it’s a relationship, vacation or new obsession. It always comes back to this though. I was at this point three years ago.. but I was absorbed with Zeus and partying and then went on a trip to Mexico and then more partying and then I was off work and still more partying and then I thought I wanted to get into videography, then I booked my storm chasing trip, then I got another IT job, broke up with Zeus, decided I wanted to contribute to science and go to grad school, started upgrading some science courses, got distracted with Zeus and partying again and moving back home. Then I actually went storm chasing. Got off drugs, became obsessed with storm chasing and spent a whole year preparing for that trip as if it was my sole purpose in life. Then I broke my ankle, decided to get into post production, quit drinking, and then quit school. And now I feel like I’m back to where I was two years ago. I'm left wondering if the past two years was just a huge distraction. I guess it was more of a necessary detour. I've improved so much in the last two years. I guess it truly is a winding road.

In some ways I feel like I’ve known all along what I’ve wanted to do.. but something always distracted or discouraged me. Especially with a complicated multi-step goal like grad school, it’s super hard to follow through. And it was impossible when I was constantly drinking and partying and in dire need of therapy and guidance. I can clearly see my ADHD patterns now.

Eventually, I have to pick something and stick with it. Because picking nothing is still a choice. I don’t know exactly what I want to do.. but I feel like, before I die, I want to contribute something to science. I want my name on a peer reviewed study. I want to die knowing that I contributed something to the scientific community. I don’t care about making babies or getting married. None of that shit matters. Science is the only thing moving humanity forward. I feel like I can offer more to the world than merely just adding more people to it. I’d rather immortalize my name than my genes. My brother already had two kids. My genes will be passed down in some form or another. But at the end of the day, that doesn't even matter. Passing on genes is just a biological instinct that can be overcome, like the urge to rape people or wanting to take a shit on the floor. 

I love storm chasing. However, I can't derive a deeper purpose as far as making the world a better place with it (or an income). I've realized that storm chasing and nature/weather photography is something I do for myself to feel at peace and feel connected. It's a true hobby. In some ways, it's almost a "spiritual" thing where I need to do it to feel balanced, alive, and present. I also enjoy the sense of community with other chasers and the adventure.  

Storm chasing is what I'm taking in from the world. Devoting myself to science is a way for me to give back.

Every Snowflake Melts

I never had any responsibilities as a kid. I wasn’t forced to eat vegetables or made to do chores or follow any rules. I didn’t play any sports or take any lessons in anything. No extracurricular activities. I just went to school and during my spare time I watched a lot of TV, played with toys alone or occasionally played outside with other kids. My mom used to clean my room for me. Up until age 12 or so, she picked out my clothes for me every morning so I didn’t have think about it. If I wanted something, then my parents (usually my dad) just bought it for me. They would get into fights because my dad just gave in to every demand for toys or junk food and my mom would attempt to instill some limits. My dad had no patience for my tantrums. One time I wanted a soft drink and my mom said no but my dad said yes and they got into this huge fight. I remember when we got home, still being in the car, the window open a crack and my mom saying, “Fine, you just take the kid then.” And then I lived with my dad and grandma for a few months. I didn’t see my mom at all during that time. I remember missing her.

“God is in the TV” – Marilyn Manson

I remember being around 5 or so and watching my grandma do the dishes and wanting to help her and she didn’t let me. I wanted to help cook too. I remember wanting to contribute and feel useful. I think that's a natural human urge, to feel like you matter and that you are competent. I think it helps with feeling of validity. I was just there. I was fed and looked after like a pet, but I wasn’t “raised” in any real sense. Eventually I just got used to watching other people do things but not being an active participant. I never acquired any skills or had any hobbies. I just watched TV or was off in my own world. I watched so much TV that it wasn’t until I was around 10 that I realized that TV was inspired by life and not the other way around. I thought the purpose of life was to mimic what happens on television. 

I didn’t like school. Besides being constantly picked on, any sort of responsibility or “work” became a negative thing in my mind. I’m not sure if this is an only-child related syndrome, but I came to believe that I was somehow special and that the world revolved around me. It didn’t help that my dad indulged my every want and need while also filling my head with delusions of winning the lottery. We would routinely drive through this super affluent neighborhood in Toronto (The Bridal Path) and talk about which house we would buy. When you’re 10 years old, you don’t know anything about the slim chances of actually winning. I also didn’t know that my dad was constantly on drugs and had a gambling problem. I thought we were special. I thought I was special. We were going to win. We talked about having a swimming pool in every room and what colours we’d paint the walls. I may have stopped believing in Santa Clause by age 7 and never believed in the Tooth Fairy, but I had my share of childhood delusions.

I never felt productive or useful as a child so I never developed a sense of self-efficacy. When I took child development courses while studying psychology, it really drove home the fact that I missed out on a lot of key components of what made up a healthy childhood. Self-efficacy was the biggest one. As far as childhoods go, I wasn't abused, I wasn't starved and I had a roof over my head. If anything, I was just very emotionally neglected. I had no discipline or structure. Among the four parenting styles, my parents were definitely the Lax/Permissive style.

“You are not special. You're not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We're all part of the same compost heap. We're are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.” -Fight Club

Day 1/365

December 31st, 2015

12/31, 10:40pm
So. I got really drunk. Did a couple lines of coke. Felt amazing. Then really wanted to die. Now I'm done and I just want to go home. I think I'm leaving soon. I hate everyone and everything.

12/31, 10:40pm
Wow. What a flip.

12/31, 10:41pm
Yeah.

I hate this fucking music. I'm so sick of this death metal garbage.

I already barfed a little in the bathroom earlier.

I just grabbed the rest of my sparkling wine and put it in my bag.

12/31, 10:42pm
Sounds like you overdid it too early.

12/31, 10:42pm
I kind of feel like leaving
I'm going to spend midnight on the fucking subway
It's fitting. My year was shit anyway

12/31, 10:43pm
Walk over to Nathan Phillips Square.
Get some fresh air.

12/31, 10:44pm
I suppose that's the plan. I guess I'll wait until we do that.
I just have no urge to be social.
I just feel like ringing in the new year alone. I hate everyone.
Garbage in, garbage out. That's literally the product of my parents.
Doing coke when you are depressed is literally the best/worst idea ever.

January 1st, 2016

1/1, 1:28am
I went to Nathan Phillips Square. It was okay. I don't know. I kind of feel like this whole NYE thing is a bunch of over-rated crap. I totally thought I had chemistry with Ryan's friend Allen. Nope.. I was just high. He had drugs. I knew he had drugs. I went up to him and asked him for drugs. We went into the bathroom and did drugs. Twice. Then we had good conversation.

I totally feel like I just relapsed into two years ago. I really felt like I had changed. I guess I haven't. Some people are just born shit and they die shit. I guess I just need to accept that and stop fighting it.

1/1, 10:27am
The walls are bending all over the place I'm so fucked up and dizzy. I feel like a splattered shit stain. I can't tell if I feel worse physically or emotionally. I don't even have the energy to cry.

1/1, 11:25am
Sounds like you need to go back to bed.

1/1, 11:26am
I'm still in bed

I can barely move.

1/1, 11:30am
I saw an article about a cat on Facebook that made me sad. Then I saw Scott's post about having to put his cat down this morning which made me even sadder. I'm so dehydrated though that tears are just oozing out of my face like syrup. But I'm starting to feel a little better.


1/1, 11:42am
It sucks. I really thought I would know better by now. But I guess I can't really count on myself to make good decisions when I'm already 2 sheets to the wind.


1/1, 12:01pm
Yep. You kinda set yourself up.


1/1, 12:16pm
Yeah I set myself up and I guess I've been in a bad headspace lately so I was extra vulnerable. I think the worst part was feeling like I actually had a connection with someone but realizing it was just drugs and booze. I've fallen into that trap in the past but I didn't think it could happen again. I thought I was smarter than that.

I just feel like I was so much healthier and better when I was in Vancouver. I was happier. Everything in my life kind of went downhill after/during the storm chasing trip. Having that to look forward to really gave me a sense of purpose. Since then it just feels like everything is on a slow decline.


1/1, 8:00pm
I spent most of the day recovering. I feel a little better now. But I've just been crying all day. Like every hour it just comes in waves. It feels like I just got dumped or something. Like something bad happened and I get these feelings of sadness, nostalgia and homesickness and grief.. But they aren't actually attached to an event. It's just the effects of a neurochemcial imbalance. Good times.

1/1, 8:06pm
A part of it is that.. But a part of it is just disappointment in myself. I really feel like I was done with that part of my life. It just makes me so upset because I worked so hard and I was proud of how far I've come and it feels like I'm just slipping back into my old habits. It was such a shitty way to end the year.

1/1, 8:13pm
Well clearly you have difficulty once you've already been drinking past a certain point. Perhaps you just need to put your foot down and limit yourself to no more than 2 drinks when you go out, no matter what. Getting drunk is your downfall. It would be better to quit entirely, but that would be very hard living with your dad, but it is possible. IF that's what you want.


1/1, 8:25pm
I know... This morning I was thinking maybe I should throw in the towel and go to some AA type of thing. But that would be so depressing. And I would have no support from my dad. He's always saying how people in support groups are stupid and weak and whatever. Also, they tie in religion which I'm not into.

I've just had too many of these "rock bottom" moments and I keep thinking, "this is the last time", but it never is. It's like an awful merry-go-round that I can't get off of. I just want a fucking normal life. A steady job and a boyfriend and a place to live. My friends had a low-key NYE with their boyfriends. I would way rather have a NYE like you did than go out and get wasted amongst the crowds of 20 year-old drunks. 

I'm tired of all this shit. 

I just want stability.


1/1, 9:34pm
So just for fun, I decided to look at my old LiveJournal from a decade ago when I was in Sydney for NYE. I remember that I didn't get drunk that night. I took a caffeine pill and just had a couple drinks and all the 20 year olds at the hostel took ecstasy and drank and I just didn't feel like getting that drunk. I remember "realizing" things and feeling mature and whatnot.. This is what I wrote.

" i realized.. that i think i've hit a turning point.. i think i've actually had my fill of partying.. i've had about 10 years of it... and now.. i think i'm done.. i think i just got everything out of my system.. i just needed an overload.. as soon as i go back home i just want to have my own place and keep it nice and clean.. i want to cook and learn how to drive... i just want to take conrtol of my life and just start being an adult.. "

Sound familiar? ....And the merry-go-round keeps going..

1/1, 9:36pm
Clearly the only thing that's changed in the last 10 years is my attention to punctuation and capitalization. I was very lazy with that LiveJournal because only about 3 people I knew actually read it.

1/1, 9:44pm
Okay so 10 years ago me, just fucking burned present me.

"its just funny because there are people even older than me who still like self-destructive partying like that.. like i'm sure there are people in their 30's still like that... hmm.. i guess thats why they are called losers.."

Ouch.

1/1, 10:04pm
Wow. That's gotta hit pretty hard. Time to start listening to your own advice perhaps.


1/1, 10:09pm
Yeah. I always kind of knew that I've been going in circles, but I didn't realize for how long. Now it's been 20 years. But even since high school I've always said that it's like I'm constantly chasing what I'm running away from.

Take It Somewhere

I feel like I've treated my life the same way I do when I have to get ready to go somewhere or finish something. I dick around until the last minute and then rush. Lately it feels like I have this giant clock above my head. Well, two clocks. One counting down to 35 and the other one counting down to 40. I feel panicked. It's like when I've left something to the last minute and now I have to really rush. I've procrastinated my entire life as a whole and now I only have about 5 years to really get my shit together.

At this point it's essentially 40 or bust. I have to cram 20 years of growth and maturity into 5 years so that I don't feel like I'm "behind" everyone else my age. If I'm still lost, broke, purposeless and single in 5 years then that’s pretty much it for me. My life will be half over by that point and I will have pressed the snooze button for too long and will have missed most of life’s key milestones. At 40, things like kids become a ‘now or never’ situation. Being entry-level at 40 means that I’ll be overlooked for younger people with faster minds, brighter smiles and tighter bodies. At 40 I won’t be able be to say, “Hey at least guys find me attractive” as a way to validate myself.

Things like not being able to plan meals or manage your finances are somewhat acceptable in your 20’s, funny but a little sad in your 30’s... but just tragic in your 40’s. At this point it’s literally do or die. If I don't end up committing suicide in my late 40's or early 50's then I will probably just die from poor health due to the physiological effects of depression (and alcoholism). Years of regret, self-loathing, and loneliness are not exactly good for you.

Since death is not optional, I might as well give the rest of my life a shot. We all end up in the same place and in the grand scheme of things, all of our lives are meaningless. In some ways life is just like a movie. You have to suspend your disbelief and buy into the bullshit to get any enjoyment out of it. We're just a bunch of horny, hairless primates struggling to find a way to put to use the excessive convolutions in our cerebral cortex. In the process, we've fucked over all the other species on the planet.. but anyway.. I digress. My point is, fuck it.. I'll bite. I'll participate in this whole life thing and try and make the most of what time I have left by contributing and becoming a productive member of society instead of avoiding everything that requires self-discipline, persistence, and commitment.

I suppose this is something that most people realize in adolescence. However, regardless of what I've done or not done in the past, all I can do at this point is move forward. I may have delayed getting ready for the party but I can still slap on some makeup and rush out the door.

I'm not behind in life. I'm just fashionably late.

The Trouble with Trouble

The trouble with distance and money and time.. The trouble with wind and shattered glass left behind

The trouble with smiles twisted through a broken lens.. The trouble with circular thoughts that won't end

Running off a cliff and not wanting to look down

The party is over
The house lights come on

Raindrops of reality burn..
Dissolving pleasure
The sun's rays sting as they pierce through the clouds

Feelings are wasted, but no real damage is done
The trouble with trouble... is that it starts out as fun

Nothing like a cold read on a hot day

I've always walked by that Utopia place on Lonsdale and saw the sign for a psychic reading and thought it would be funny to go in one of these days and get one..You know, just for shits and giggles. Well, I guess today was destined to be that day.

Shits there were not, but giggles.. Those hit me as soon as I walked in. I was bombarded by so much woo it was overwhelming. Crystals and incense and books with hilarious titles like "Medical Healing with your Mind -scientifically proven to work!". I had to walk around for about 5 minutes pretending to browse so that I can force a straight face and focus on maintaining my composure.

Once in the session, she quickly deciphered my personality by probably assessing my body language, tone of voice, and socio-economic status as well as using vague terminology like "smart", "witty", and "funny".

Apparently I "get" men (as in I relate to them) because in most of my past lives I was male. Ha! That's actually something I've always joked about.

She asked, "What signs are you usually attracted to?"

My first thought was, 'Wrong Way', 'Dead End', 'Danger'..

"My last two ex's were Cancers," I replied. She then told me that the problem with Cancers are that they are moody. "They weren't moody", I said, "At all."

Then of course she backtracked, "I think it makes a difference what year they are born." I'm sure it does.

I'm going to meet a Gemini who is slightly older than me and has a "good job" some time between "tomorrow and October". Awesome. Let me mark that one on my calendar.

I am also "good and bad with money". Makes perfect sense.

All in all she was a really nice lady and kind of funny. She is a smooth talker and good at what she does. I can see why it would be so easy to fall into the trap of believing this stuff. The human brain is wired to think magically; critical thinking does not come naturally and takes work. We've evolved to make connections between loosely associated facts and attach meaning where there is none. No matter how skeptical and logical I am, I found myself starting to read into her vague statements and had to pull myself out of the quicksand.

We unconsciously give away so much about ourselves in our body language that all someone has to do is "read" it and interpret it back to you and feed off of your validation.

She gave me her card in case I want to meet some of the people from my past lives.

I bet they are dead sexy.

I literally want to chase what I am running from

**This is something I drafted on December 10th, 2013 but never published it because I didn't think it was finished. I was going to lead into why I want to become a storm chaser and I'm quite sure I booked my storm chasing tour very soon after I wrote this. The title refers to something I've always said about my life; that it feels like I'm constantly chasing what I'm running from because I seem to be always going in circles and never getting anywhere**

Something happened when I went for a bike ride around the sea wall during that wind storm exactly 3 weeks ago on November 19th.

Besides catching a cold, I also caught another type of bug.

You see, I have a problem. According to my psychiatrist it's a "substance abuse" problem and I should probably be in rehab. I'm an addict, a junkie in the making. I love alcohol, I love cocaine (especially when mixed with alcohol) and I find myself craving it more these days.. even after hearing my father talk about how it ruined his life. I have dreams about it, and lately every time I get drunk I try and seek it out. I love anything that sends my dopamine and adrenaline through the roof.  Even innocuous things like food, Candy Crush, or just a good book will hijack my brain. If it's addictive, I like it. Somehow exercise is a harder one to pick up.. I guess it's kind of like smoking.. it takes effort at first. Listening to good music will also get those synapses firing.

I rounded a corner, past the Lionsgate bridge, and I felt the force of nature against my bike as I rode into the wind. At one point I had to get off and walk. Once I rounded another corner I saw people standing around taking pictures. The waves were washing up onto the seawall. They were huge and terrifying and beautiful. Something about their immensity and power made it almost sexual. I was so thrilled that I was almost shaking in fear and excitement. I recorded video and took some photos with my crappy iphone camera. I wished I had Zeus's GoPro strapped to my helmet.

Looking at the waves and standing so close to danger, it felt like I was staring death in the face; I guess also because I have a huge fear of the ocean. But like anything I'm afraid of, I'm also fascinated by it.

That feeling brought on by thinking you might die but then not dying made me realize that this was my cocaine.. my alcohol.. my Ritalin.

Flour Child

When you try and cut out wheat (and most other processed food) it feels like the whole world is against you. All of a sudden the images of bagels and donuts flashing across the flatscreen TVs at Tim Horton's suddenly become so sinister. Wheat is everywhere. It's in everything. 

On January 13th I decided to change the way I ate and swore off all wheat and processed food. I still drank alcohol.. but I tried to minimize it to organic wine. I still drank Gray Goose, which I know has wheat in it so I haven't been totally perfect. After a few days of brutal withdrawal symptoms -headaches, mind fog, irritability, confusion, and obsessive sandwich fantasies- I was doing well. My appetite had gone down, my cravings vanished, I wasn't coughing in the middle of the night, the psoriasis on my scalp that I've had since I was 11 started going away, I had more energy and felt more alert. My ADHD symptoms were almost non-existent. Even the hyperactivity I usually get from alcohol went away. The mechanism behind that puzzles me though. I guess if my ADHD is exasperated by wheat and then even more so by alcohol, then maybe the wheat is behind my ADHD? It would be interesting if in the future it was determined that ADHD was in fact a side effect of a wheat allergy. ADHD is genetic, but then I think so are wheat allergies. So who knows. Anyways, I digress.

I was doing well until I got my new job. We were having an IT Open House my first week there and I managed to resist the Dad's cookies on the table. However, on February 13th, exactly a month after I started this adventure, my coworker invites me to come with her down to the new First Nations center on campus to have some cake to celebrate the center's opening. My intention was just to torture myself and watch others around me eat cake, living vicariously through them. Then I thought, "Some icing should be fine". People think caving into a craving is an impulsive act... it isn't. You plan it. I usually find myself already thinking about excuses to give in. You imagine yourself doing it even before you tell yourself you've decided that you are going to give in to the craving. It's true junkie behavior. Though I also read somewhere that by the time you consciously make any decision, you've already made it before you are even aware of it. 

I grab a piece of cake, scrape off the icing and push the cake part aside. I take a bite of the icing, laced with some chocolate cake crumbs, and I get this distinct feeling of falling. For a moment I felt like I was being strapped down or trapped. Like I had gotten on a ride.. which I had of course. I had bought the ticket and got on the roller coaster. Waves of hyperactivity resonated through me as copious amounts of glucose flooded my bloodstream. By the time I got back upstairs I felt like taking a nap. I was ok though.. I felt fine and everything was under control.

Two hours later I'm at Richmond center for an appointment. I arrive early because I wanted to hang out at the Pet Habitat and play with the kittens for 20 minutes. I was looking forward to that burst of dopamine and oxytocin so much.. perhaps I was ovulating.. (fuck I really am like Mayim Bialik's character, Amy Farrah Fowler from Big Bang Theory, though thankfully I'm way more attractive). Anyways, I arrive only to find that the Pet Habitat is closed down and gone.. the big glass window dark, empty, and kittenless. 

I'm filled with a rush of despair and an intense craving for sugar. I walk to Purdy's and thankfully they have my favorite flavor, raspberry cheesecake. I hesitate for a moment... cone or cup? Wheat or not? I'm already caving to processed food... should I cave to wheat too? No. I compromise with myself and order it in a cup. The cashier puts it in a cone and proceeds to hand it to me, "sorry, I said in a cup" (don't know why the hell I'm apologizing, god I'm so Canadian), "just dump it in the cup, it's fine". Just more microscopic pieces of wheat to sneak into my body. My hands are shaking as I hand her the money; it's like when you really have to go to the bathroom on your way home and just as you put the key into the door the urgency increases tenfold because your body knows it's so close to relief. I needed that ice cream so bad. I sat down on the nearest bench and devoured it like a hungry stray cat devours a saucer of milk. Calmness and serenity. All is now right with the world. The next day I ate a Dad's chocolate chip oatmeal cookie on the last day of the open house. I ate it as slow as possible.. it was like a beautiful two minute vacation. I'm quite sure my eyes glazed over as I let the crumbs slowly dissolve in my mouth. 

Since then I've slowly started eating more refined sugar. The slippery slope got even oilier when I started eating gluten-free cookies -the wheataholic's methadone. My first bite of a gluten-free chocolate chip cookie felt like a breath of fresh air after being trapped in a crawl space for a month. It was delicious.. and I wanted more. My work has this tradition where when someone new starts they have to buy the team donuts or some kind of treat. My manager, knowing that I don't eat wheat, suggests that I bring in some gluten-free cookies. I buy two boxes and only one made it to the office. Because of the higher sugar content of gluten-free products, they are even more addictive. I've realized that my wheat addiction was compounded by my sugar addiction. 

On February 22nd I had some ice-cream cake at work. It's weird because about 10 minutes after I finished it I felt a bit dizzy and was very mildly hallucinating. I felt mentally foggy.. like when I was looking at someone I wasn't really looking at them. My focus of attention just dispersed and scattered across the room and I felt lethargic. This feeling eventually passed. 

On the 25th some cupcakes snuck their way into my body. A couple hours later I felt more lethargy and brain fog.. I also felt like my chest was tightening up and to take a proper breath required conscious effort. 

Sugar was the gateway drug that allowed wheat back into my life. This one guy's desk at work is covered with cookies and Halloween candy that's free for anyone to help themselves. "IT departments run on sugar" he says. Sadly there is some truth in that, especially for me since I am not super passionate about IT; I don't mind it but it doesn't really excite me. At the end of the day it's still just a job and little bursts of glucose help pass the time. I've been indulging in chocolates and ice-cream and candy for the last 3 weeks now. 

Today, after eating the most wheat I have ever ingested since January 12th, I felt like I was on drugs at work. I felt like I was in a bubble or like I was under water. My thoughts were like molasses. Just before my shift ended I got really flustered trying to help this guy with the photocopier. He wanted to photocopy his drivers license so that both sides ended up on one page. I knew how to do this... but when I looked at the touch-screen on the copier I just couldn't focus or think. Like I mentioned to someone earlier, it was like trying to do algebra on acid. I just felt brain damaged. The thing is, I used to feel like this quite often; I used to call them "bad ADHD days." Since I started this job I haven't had to take any stimulant medication. I haven't had to take it in a long time...except today when I got home from work. At one point during this ordeal I tried to call the service desk and talk to someone who could help me but it kept going to voicemail -now I know how users feel. When I went back to the copier, I wasn't even sure which guy it was that I was helping.. I forgot what he looked like or just never even took note of it when he first started talking to me. Eventually we found a workaround and I apologized and said I was new and had only been there for two weeks. He said "it's ok, I'll forgive you this time." At least he took it well. 

If being skinny isn't enough motivation, being able to focus and function and do well at my job should be. But like this CBC article says, the grocery store is like a battleground. Processed food is designed to be addictive. Real food is rewarding but it doesn't elicit euphoria. We eat to live; we shouldn't live to eat. Everything is about making a quick buck. At the end of the day no one gives a shit about your wellbeing... it's all about making money. The processed food industry is one giant scam.

As I sit here scratching my itchy, burning scalp.. I realize that I didn't fail. This is isn't a diet. This is a journey that will have its ups and downs and the wagon will always stop for me so that I can get back on, no matter how many times I fall off.

Okay 2013.. Let's do this.

Growing up I always wished I could be that well behaved, quiet kid in class. Every time I started a new school it was a new chance; a clean slate after another tarnished reputation. I always thought, "This time I'm going to behave, make friends, pay attention, not disrupt the class, finish my work on time, have nicer handwriting and not be sent to the hall or the principal's office three times a week -this time I'm going to be good". As a kid we're taught that we can only be "good" or "bad", and I was almost always a "bad" kid because I could never control my behavior. After school number 10, I gave up on this dream and eventually just embraced my hyperactivity as a part of my personality. Obviously being diagnosed with ADHD 25 years ago would have set my life on a different trajectory, but alas this is how it is and in the end I think I turned out okay.

My only problem is that I still can't control some aspects of my behavior...mainly my ability to cope with life's little setbacks and disappointments. I just fall apart/explode if things don't go the way I thought they would or should. Granted I've gotten a lot better with medication and increasing self-awareness. I'm realizing that a lot of my irritability comes from either fear or physical discomfort. I react badly to things when I am tired or hungry, and when plans suddenly change I panic because I seem to not have a sense of security; it feels like the world is spinning out of control. A lot of times it's social anxiety that manifests as anger. In the end it always boils down to fear and/or physical discomfort. Obviously something inside me broke or failed to develop some time around the age of 2. I never learned how to cope with life the way a healthy human adult is supposed to. I'm sure this is very common and many people never learn. I don't consider myself special in this regard; I'm just reflecting on myself right now.

I usually don't bother with new years resolutions because I know I never follow through with them. I already tell myself almost daily that I should get more exercise, more sleep, drink less, save money, etc. At the end of the day those things aren't at the forefront of what is important to me. I catch up on sleep and I take breaks from drinking every now and then.


I read this blog entry yesterday by Tasleem and it inspired me. I could never be that "good" kid, but I can still become a good daughter, a good girlfriend, and if it ever comes to it, a good parent. I want to be that good person; someone who doesn't swear and complain all the time and snap at loved ones because she knows she can get away with it. This article also really put things in perspective for me.

I already started this a few days ago, but I've decided that my official new years resolution is to control my emotional reactions to stress so that I can become a less selfish and more easygoing person.

Art is Dead

I've realized that I need to be creative in order to be happy.

Our lives as human beings are inherently meaningless. Being creative gives you a feeling of uniqueness and sense of importance, as if you've done something meaningful and have contributed to the world. Even if no one sees or acknowledges your creation.

There are over 7 billion reasons why originality is dead. Doing any sort of art for the sake of anything other than for the pleasure of being creative will only lead to disappointment. Now that I've decided I want to focus on writing, I've found that seeing so many people out there with blogs, websites, and columns is really discouraging.

Last night at the open mic I went to with Zeus, over half of the performers did covers. It made me sad to see that people are so desperate to be recognized and heard that they will just replicate something that's already popular. Or maybe my pessimistic, overly emotional, wine and vodka soaked brain was reading too much into it. Perhaps they just don't know how to write music but enjoy playing it. Either way, I realized that there are so many fighting over a piece of the pie that even if I get my share I will only have a crumb, barely visible to the naked eye.

Fuck the pie.

Time is My Money

So it looks like I'll be transferring to the Technical Web Design program that starts in January. It's apparently not as challenging and it's set up so that you do most of your work in class and rarely have homework. Perfect. You know.. there is a small chance that perhaps if it weren't for the drinking, drugs, concerts, parties and staying up late -I might have had less difficulty with school. Haha! But seriously, if I can't do it high/drunk/hungover/tired, then I can't do it at all. Because at any given time I am most likely one or more of these things, so unless I am extremely passionate about what I'm doing, I need an education/profession that doesn't demand too much of my spare time and/or attention.

Now, you may think this sounds like the musings of a lazy, middle-class, hedonistic wannabe-socialite slacker... and quite honestly, that might be an accurate assumption. I get bored easily and my social life has always taken precedence over my responsibilities.

I think life is meant to be enjoyed. Chronic stress is unhealthy. I don't have that "drive to succeed" that we're fed to believe that we're supposed to have in order to qualify as functional adults and productive members of society. Sure, I like money as much as the next person, but no money is worth my happiness and sense of well-being. After my health, family and friends, I value my free time the most.

Besides working 11 hours a week at BCIT, I have no other obligations until January 14th.

Jackpot.

Scar Tissue

you were the cement block tied around my ankles and the blade on my wrists

you were the fresh air within the plastic bag around my head

you comforted me with your blanket of thorns

and the poison bled out of me when you tore it away



At least the bitterness you left me with tasted sweeter

than any of your gestures



She’s still holding the knife you slid inside me

and when she pulls it out of you

the future will smile at me through the mirror

and you’ll hear the echoes of your history repeating itself

Confessions of a Dysthymic Potter Geek...the unedited version

I have nothing new or interesting to say.. my job is pretty tolerable and stimulating... I'm ..uh.. in love... I guess you could say I'm... happy. It's just odd that with happiness comes a lack of creativity... or a lack of a reason to write. So I figure I'm just gonna post some old stuff... especially because this is something I wrote just over a year ago.. and it really just sums up how everything kind of came crashing down last summer... that feeling that something was rising to the surface...and that some kind of change was imminent..I even met Matt 4 days later on the 18th.

I just think it's interesting because now I'm in a totally opposite state of mind..and the things I mention about what's lacking in my life, I now have.

I posted this on myspace shortly after I wrote it, but I took out a bunch of stuff...so here is the original...

Confessions of a Dysthymic Potter Geek

I feel like this summer has really pushed me further into my depression.... though I still ask myself.. am I depressed? I know that if I had a social life, knew how to drive, had a boyfriend, maybe learned how to cook... had a good job... didn't hang out with my parents all the time... if all these things were fixed....then I probably wouldn't be depressed... the thing is... is that all these things require effort.. and the reason i think i'm depressed is probably because i don't have the energy to put in the effort for these things.... they seem daunting and scary... i feel paranoid.... like every time i walk around on the street people are judging me.... i feel horribly self conscious in most social situations... i feel like i can hear what people are thinking about me... and i'm aware of it in such a way that a person is aware of the scratchiness of a wool sweater...every time you move you feel the scraping of fabric against your skin so you just don't want to move anymore...

The Pattern

I try and think back to when it all started... and i can't really put my finger on it.... it just seems that I am always depressed for some reason or another... when i went back to school i felt like i was productive and busy....and it felt good... though i still didn't have much of a social life outside of my roommates... but i was happy hanging out with them... it was something new... I'm pretty sure i wasn't depressed because Naomi was depressed and i remember thinking that i felt fine... i would party on the weekend and regret it later... but that was really the only thing that ever brought me down... i developed a crush on one of my roommates.... it started becoming a bit obsessive... but i didn't know what to do about it... i feel horribly uncomfortable around the opposite sex.... and i knew that we didn't actually have anything in common....he was way too immature and simple minded... it was just a proximity infatuation.... and it occupied my mind in times of boredom...

after moving into this place i started doing more drugs.... tried cocaine and ketamine... i rather enjoyed ketamine at the time... i would go and party with these people....some roommates and their friends... we would stay out until day break... at which point i would start feeling ill.... and this illness wasn't just induced by the drugs and alcohol being metabolized in my body..... though that does have a lot to do with it.... because as soon as my mind would become clear... i would start feeling so bored.... people think boredom is just some mundane feeling... more like an annoyance... but it isn't... it's so much more than that... its painful... i think its the worst feeling ever imaginable.... i would look around the room and realize that these people were extremely boring.. i had nothing in common with them... and i didn't really much care for their existence in general... so i would sit there... stuck in this apartment filled with cigarette smoke coming down of shitty drugs listening to pointless conversation wishing i were at home.... this happened on many occasions... and more and more i became aware of the pattern... i would get very drunk very fast....i would totally lose myself... i would become a completely different person just so i could enjoy the company of these people whom i depended on for a social life.... after a while i realized that there is no point of even going out anymore....because i don't want to get stuck in some apartment....

so i stopped going out with Christy... i would just hang out with her on random occasions... and then one day..,. i saw here true colours and just decided that i despised her... but i still hung out with her and got drunk....because i liked her when i was drunk..... i started drinking quite often.... i was drunk for most of the month of may.... but i was exercising a lot.... i really wanted to lose weight for Toronto.... so in general i felt happy... because even though i was becoming an alcoholic to fill the void... i was losing weight... so something good was still happening.....

my crush on the roommate was starting to become grating.... i knew it was pointless... and i think that was the main reason it was driving me crazy...i just couldn't stop thinking about him... though it would wear off when i didn't see him for a few days... so it was totally related to proximity.... so i was just in this pattern... of drink, exercise, and obsess.... i would sometimes have drunk crying fits when i was with my mom... i usually have them alone.... but it had gotten so bad that i started having them with my mom present....

then finally.... sometime near the end of June... Christy said something about the roommie that i liked that upset me..she said he was interested in another girl...i think i had had a few drinks.... it was over msn... so no one saw.... but i cried my eyes out for the longest time... the next morning i found out one of my favourite professors at school died... so i cried some more... and then the bitterness just set in... i started feeling like i wasn't losing weight because of the drinking.... so i was just like...fuck it... i need to cut out the drinking... because this pattern isn't getting me anywhere...

after i cut out the booze... i realized that i don't really have much in common with the friends that i do have.,..not the roommies....but my real friends that i see on occasion ..... i just want to shut everyone away... and be alone... i figure i'm just going to face whatever it is i am trying to escape.... i'm going to sober up and deal with it... and the first realization is that i don't really want to be around people... ok that’s a start.....

Addiction Transfer

and so i begin the harry potter series all over again in preparation for the 5th movie and 7th book... I feel July will be great... I had started the philosophers stone on the way to the dentist on june 27.... after my revelation of sobering up and becoming a hermit...which was right around canada day... i decided to just immerse myself in the book.... i thought it would be such a chore to try and read the whole series over again.... but i shortly realized that it was the other way around.... it was a chore to do anything besides read harry potter.... as i delved into the second book... i felt all my troubles and cares melt away... i didn't drink.. i didn't exercise.... i didn't' sleep... all i wanted to do was read harry potter.... i just wanted to read it forever.... it didn't matter that i had no life...nothing mattered... not even making money... it felt like all the other obsessions throughout my childhood.... from vampires to the little mermaid to burning things to marilyn manson.... it was one in the same... it replaced any other thought that i had about anything else that i ever used to think about...

then one day before the harry potter marathon... i had drinks with the roommates... though i didn't let myself get very drunk... all i could think of was reading harry potter..... but i hung out with them anyway.... and it drove home the feeling of boredom even more....being pretty much sober i realized that hanging out with the roommates was totally pointless... Christy had nothing interesting to say.... and the crush on the roommate evaporated....the spell was broken.... the pattern changed for good.... i was done.... the new plan was set in motion

so the harry potter marathon and the new movie and the reading all kept me in a sort of manic state that felt neither good nor bad... it just felt... necessary... i had to keep reading.... it was all i cared about.... the only purpose i felt my life had at that point....i was dreading the 7th book coming out because then i wouldn't know what to do with myself after i finished it.... i had started a new pattern of little sleep and lots of reading... and i didn't know what to do when i was done reading... there was a point in between the 6th and 7th book where all i did was read anything on the internet that had to do with harry potter... i would stay up till 3 am at least... just like i did when i was reading... and then.... once the 7th book came out... there was bitter sweet relief... but that ended as soon as i was done.... so i just continued with reading things on the internet to compensate for the withdrawal that i was feeling.... and it was intense... i felt so despondent and bored...and bitter.... though i managed to keep the pattern of staying up really late reading harry potter related articles and forums..... and then... i became hooked on a fanfiction story that almost fully satisfied my need..... i would read that late into the night.... i started becoming zombielike from the lack of sleep and healthy food... i would barely exercise.... i just didn't care about weight loss anymore....

When the 7th month dies

then one night.. i decided to drink a little rum and finish off the last few chapters of that fanfiction story... i went to bed sometime after 3 as usual... though this time i had to wake up to meet with someone in a lab to watch her inject baby rats and talk about volunteer work.... i woke up at 9:30 feeling extremely nauseous.... and thirsty... my urine was the colour of the rum i drank.... i felt pretty bad considering that i only had a few sips from that micky.... i went on... feeling slightly ill... i got to the lab...changed into scrubs.... and proceeded to watch the baby rats.... the place had a very hospital like feel to it... everything was sterile and chrome... the room where the rats were kept had a sickly smell.. all of this wasn't helping the nausea... then suddenly i was overcome by a wave of thirst... i felt like i would die if i didn't drink some water.....i looked around and didn't see anything except a tap at the other end of the room.... then i felt dizzy and more queasy... so i sit down on a chrome chair with my head in my hands.... I hear a rush of voices sing in the distance... i'm dreaming again.... but now i am waking up.... i open my eyes and see white with specks of red....i'm on the floor.....but what floor?... where am i?... why am i bleeding?... i think that i am dying.... and then it all comes back to me and i realize that i just fainted.... i am carted off to the school clinic...administered some tests... and sent home..... i drink a lot of water... my nose is bruised... i find out that i got this apartment that i wanted..... but instead of feeling happy i feel scared because of the change.... i order pizza and cinnamon sticks to quell the painful void and the feeling that my life is spinning out of control....happy birthday harry potter



It's August, I go to Toronto... i have fun because it distracts me.... i decide to go to shambhala... even though i had previously decided against it because i had no money and realized i didn't like Christy.... but i felt like all i was doing was hanging out with my parents... and i thought it might be healthy to be with people my own age... i do a lot of drugs.. even though i don't really have the urge to... but i feel like it helps me cope... i realize once i'm there that i don't want to be there... i am thoroughly bored with the people i am with because none of them are actually my friends... and once again... i cannot relate to them or have anything in common with them.... i realize that at least if i am high and drunk then i have a few hours of being happy...even though i pay the price of feeling the opposite when i come down... though it still seems better than a steady stream of boredom.... the first night i laid there in my tent coming down of a mixture of cocaine, mushrooms, ephedra, ketamine, and alcohol...... i felt trapped... i had no contact with the outside world....i felt so alone that it was suffocating... i felt like i would die from the pain i felt... i just couldn't take it.... and then... i guess i must have fallen asleep.... but some time later i opened my eyes and i panicked.... i didn't know where i was....and then it slowly came back... Christy... i was with Christy... but what was i doing with her? .... i was at shambhala.... and then it all came back... i wonder if i had fainted again....

the next day i have a fun time at the river...doing a mixture of the same drugs.. though this time i eat a huge mushroom cap... i feel really good... i feel the vibe all around me... i have this hippy moment where i feel connected with the world and i just want to let go of all my inhibitions... i analyze everyone... i realize that i'm really smart and that i should become a writer...this realization happens often when i'm really high.... though what the hell i should write about is beyond me... i sit in a purple porto potty... and the walls are a stream of colour and i think of that picture of Albert Hoffman sitting in his house overlooking a cliff.. and the walls are psychedelic as well as the sky.... that’s how i feel in the porto potty.... i feel like him...overlooking the world... i feel totally alive and one with the universe all vibrating... and just..being....i am so aware of how alive i am... when i sit by the river i see the sky and trees melting together... this is it...the trip i always wanted.... i had always planned to take a big mushroom trip like this.... though i don't think it was the right day for it....

"The acid had shifted gears on him; the next phase would probably be one of those hellishly intense introspective nightmares. Four hours or so of catatonic despair" - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

I started coming down... and i felt a bit panicky and sick... i felt like i was trapped in my body.... like it was some empty vessel floating away in space and all i could do was silently scream as everyone around me talked and had fun.... i was hugging this 2 litre bottle of soda water because i felt dehydrated and was scared i might faint again.... i sat in the chair not talking for about 2 hours.... i kept feeling dizzy and a bit nauseous.... i thought of maybe just puking into the river.... but it would be so gross... it was a shallow slow moving river.... and there were people sitting in it.... i knew i didn't feel able enough to move somewhere else to puke..... i just continued to sit there.... i was glad about the sunglasses and hat because i felt my eyes rolling to the back of my head... and i didn't want to scare anyone.... i felt like i was going to faint.... but i just kept drinking the soda water... eventually i had come down enough to start being a bit social again... but it was a such a facade... more so than when i was sober.... walking back to the campsite... all i wanted to do was go home.... i felt so homesick... like a kid at summer camp..... all i could think of was my mom... i kept getting flashbacks of Toronto... wishing i was there again....with my family...with my mom... i got into my tent and just curled up and hugged my hello kitty pillow... i just silently cried for about 45 minutes... i finally felt numb.... so i went back out and was a bit social again.... like the night before i went to bed early... though this time i didn't get up and wander around alone like i did the first night. the last day i hung out at the river again.. i didn't do as many drugs... i did drink a bit... i slept for a bit... and then i went out at night alone... and had fun....

and now we come to today.... August 14th 2007... it's been one year exactly since i've had sex.... its 2pm.. i'm still in my pajamas.... i have a bunch of things i need to get done but don't see how i will actually end up doing any of them.... i still haven't eaten anything yet.... there are 2 weeks left of summer... i feel it all coming to an end.... but an end usually means a beginning of something new... i'm almost finished "prozac nation" ...its already overdue... at first i didn't think i related to elizabeth wurtzel... but as i read on i saw quite a bit of similarities in the thinking patterns.... and it makes me wonder... what do i do at this point... see a counsellor? try and get some medication? maybe i should just try and get a life first... maybe that will help... but with life comes certain events that require coping.... with life comes dealing with people... but how do you deal with people when you feel like the dirt on their shoe? when all you want to do is hide in your room and read harry potter fanfiction and eat pizza..... my self esteem is non-existent... the thought of meeting a guy is something completely from a different world... i almost feel like a child.... like when i grow up i will meet guys... when i grow up i will learn to drive, to cook, to have a life..... when i grow up....when i start school....when i finish school...when i'm 27.....when i'm 30....when i'm 45...

when i'm dead

I stole a work from fork today

I'm supposed to be starting on a paper right now.

I know that before I had too much time on my hands and that I had no structure or schedule... and that it was driving me crazy.. but..

I'm feeling kind of bitter... like I have no free time left.. I need to be asleep in less than 4 hours.. but I feel like I just got home from work.

It feels like that bladder infection is coming back.

I don't hate my job... but I don't love it either.. I feel numb to it.. I feel like I'm just surrendering and giving in to the endless cycle of work/weekend/work/weekend... and just so that I can barely afford to live in my apartment and pay my bills.. and then when my student loan payments come around it will feel even more pointless as I continue through the work/weekend cycle just so that I can pay off the interest of a $30,000 loan that mainly got used for 5 years of living a comfortable life without having to work.

I just took some Ritalin... I took a whole pill.. usually I break them in half.. but I think I'm getting used to it... so I might have to up the dose a bit (that's actually normal though.. part of stimulant treatment is to start very low and then up the dose to an adequate level).

Part of my dysphoric apathy is probably also because of the Ritalin... but the Ritalin helps me with work... it makes me more tolerant of stress and boredom.. and I feel emotionally numb when it comes to dealing with customers.. which is great and helps me do the job a lot better.

..I'm thinking some Dexedrine would be beneficial for some tasks... like with detail oriented stuff.. all in all Ritalin calms me down and makes me feel numb more than it helps me focus... but Dexedrine is very good at helping with details... I know it did wonders with my arithmetic.

I'm going to have to type up the 'caring for your home' section of the Homebook for one of the buildings tomorrow (or soon anyway)... it's basically filling in the specifications of the suite.. like the colour code for paint and stuff... and there are all these confusing notes scribbled all over the printed out copy I'm supposed to edit. Dexedrine would help a lot in this situation.. but the only problem is that it takes 1.5 hours to kick in.. so I'd have to know in advance exactly when I'm doing it.

Oh well.. I know that getting regular sleep and stuff will also help.. and upping my omega 3's.

I just feel like I have no creativity in me.. like my soul is slowly being sucked out... I feel like I'm just accepting that my life.. for the most part.. is going to be quite boring... and it's a huge up hill battle to get out of debt. I feel like I'm going to start drinking more...

When I was in school I would walk out of class energized and my mind would be rapidly swirling with all these thoughts and ideas...

Now it feels like it's settling.. and not moving at all.. it's like a soup skin is developing... and all the substance is sinking to the bottom.. until everything just below the surface ends up watery and flavourless.

I feel like I'm being repressed somehow.. like my inner self is just being stepped on and buried away... as cliche as this sounds...and as much as it has probably been said over a million times in reference to any kind of 9-5 job... but... it feels like I'm turning into an automaton.

The only thing is... is that I can feel this sort of rebellious part of me stirring... the same part that got me in trouble all through my childhood.

At least I still feel impervious to depression... I don't get those negative thought spirals that I used to get... Even Ritalin doesn't make me depressed like it used to.. though it never made me depressed... it just made me feel all flat...and in turn that would make me depressed because I didn't feel like myself. Now it's like I still get the flat feeling a bit... but it doesn't make me depressed.

If my mood starts to dip it just bounces back to normal... like I have this safety net that protects me from crashing to the ground. The only thing that makes me feel like crap is after a night of heavy drinking... that's the only time I feel depressed... so I haven't gotten wasted in a while.. I still drink.. but I haven't gotten falling down drunk in almost a month I think.

I can now see why 300mg of Wellbutrin is the therapeutic dose for depression.. and that the 150mg wasn't fully doing it... though it took about 3 months after upping the dose to take effect. A part of that is just life changes too I guess.. but some time during my job search... I just snapped out of my hopelessness and got that weird bouncing back feeling. About a week before my birthday...it was a Friday... I think it was the 16th (2 months ago exactly)... I just felt so suicidal that I even considered calling someone or going to the hospital or something while I still had enough control because I felt myself dipping so low..that I thought that I might reach some point of no return or something... but then I had some drinks and it made me snap out of it.

This Ritalin hasn't done anything except make me a bit sleepy.

I spoke with Matt earlier... he always has vivid dreams with a clear storyline. He said that last night he dreamt that he went bald and that I cheated on him...I was just dating some other guy and I was making out with him in front of Matt while we were hanging out in his parents backyard. I don't know if it's because I took psychology or just because I think in metaphors a lot.. but I feel like I'm pretty good at decoding the symbolism in dreams..

(wow I feel a lot better now that I ate something.... god I have to stop forgetting to eat..I always get this blah feeling..usually after work... and then much later I eat and I feel better... I swear there are times when I don't interpret the feeling as hunger...but as just this stomach achy/depressed/lethargic/irritable/flat feeling.. obviously this has a lot to do with taking stimulants...wellbutrin included.. but I think a lot of it is also because I don't emotionally binge eat anymore..and since I hate cooking.. I avoid having to prepare food for myself as long as possible. I still get hungry though.. but when I add something like Ritalin in the mix it numbs out the hunger signals... which obviously I'm not complaining about... but I don't want to just not eat... and I always have nuts or fruit or something at my desk because I don't like to go too long without eating... sometimes it's temping to lose weight 1998 style... but I know it doesn't work... At this point I'm just using the lack of hunger as will power to avoid eating excessive junk food... because I don't want to balloon due to sitting on my ass for about 45 hours a week. I'm vowing to at least go for a walk or something once a day.. I didn't today because I have homework.. which I still haven't started.)

Anyway that tangent went a little further than I thought it would (surprise! surprise! (hey that was also the name of this book that my reading group had to read in Mrs. Tepperman's class when I was in grade 1... "Surprise! Surprise!" they were these little stories or something to help you read... there were about 4 or 5 groups in the class... the "Surprise! Surprise!" group was I think the second to lowest one in difficulty.. or maybe lowest.. I can't remember... it mainly had some Jamaican kids who didn't speak English or other foreigners.. and then I guess less intelligent Canadians... I was even a year older than everyone because I was held back.. but my reading level was lower than most people younger than me... I guess it's also because I had just come out of French immersion.... I was always really good at math though.. we would have these daily quizzes that were out of 10.. and I almost always got 10 out of 10..she would read out everyones answers...hehe..I guess confidentiality wasn't a luxury afforded to 1st graders. It was also in Mrs. Tepperman's class that I discovered that I liked writing. We would have these little journals that we would write a few sentences in every day... I might have read slow and had handwriting like a 3 year old.. but my imagination worked just fine. Apparently when I was 2 I would "read" books to myself.. I would just open the book and make up a story about the pictures... I would sit there absorbed in the book talking to myself in Hungarian..I know this because I've heard it on tape... and was also told. Also when you grow up without siblings you tend to only have your imagination as a companion. ))

..so when Matt tells me the dreams he has it's like an open door to all his unconscious thoughts/worries.. though a lot of the time he dreams about super heroes and politicians.. but then every once in a while he'll tell me about a dream like the one I mentioned above.. and that's openly displaying an insecurity.. even though there wasn't much symbolism in this one.. it was a pretty obvious insecure dream any man would have.. but I think there is some symbolism in the part about being in his parents backyard.. and the fact that I was so openly hurting him.. he said that in the dream he had asked me and the guy to stop making out in front of him.

I think this was probably influenced by the fact that yesterday..after coming back from his friend Garrett's place..(Garrett and his girlfriend got recently engaged...and he travels a lot for work so he's gone for months at a time and then comes back for like a week or two).. I said to Matt.. "I don't know how Natalie does it.. how can she go without sex for so long... if I was in that situation I would probably fuck someone while drunk within the first month." Now.. I know I probably wouldn't.. I think I mainly said it to keep him on his toes.. or to maybe push him away? ...I don't know why I said it... I guess I said it in a "I don't need you" sort of joking way.. he laughed in response and said "good to know". Maybe it resonated with him a bit.. though I think he sometimes thinks my impulsiveness would take over and I would cheat on him while drunk or something. I know he was paranoid one night when I hung out with Jen and spent the night at her house..this was months ago... but in the morning he phoned Jen and was like "Did Jade come home with you last night?" and apparently he demanded more than asked... but tried to act calm. Honestly.. there was a night.. it was actually his birthday... he was still at work.. and I was on the beach with a group of people because it was a birthday party for some of Jen's friends... and there was this guy there that I was talking with.. he was 6'2..I think like 28.. darkish hair.. kind of quiet.. had a slight Jesseness about him (it turns out he's an artist).. but yeah we talked and stuff... he said he worked at Ebay... anyway.. I was drunk and I was attracted to him.. it's bad because there is a photo of him and me on facebook from that night and I'm kind of leaning close to him as we were sitting on a log together.. I'm not tagged in it.. but Matt could still see it if someone else he knows is tagged in the album.. I don't think there is though. It's not even that bad of a pic.. I think I just feel guilty because I felt attracted to the guy.. and it felt like I could just live in the moment and do anything... I was just hoping Matt would get there soon because I was afraid if he didn't that I would do something with this guy. Though I did mention my boyfriend in a few conversations with him.. so I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have done anything. And the attraction was purely a physical one... I don't think I could date another shy artist type again... too boring. I like that Matt is social. This guy walked around like a ghost not saying anything.. at one point I was just like... "who are you?!" because I thought maybe I was the only person who could see him or something... like he was just this entity following us around. It was very much like when I first met Jesse.. so yeah.. not very appealing.. but I guess I was still attracted to him in my drunken state.

Then I saw Matt coming towards us on the beach.. and as soon as he was close and I gave him a hug I forgot that the guy, Zack, even existed. Even just the smell of Matt nearby was intoxicating and once again it was as if we were the only people on the entire beach. Every time we hang out with other people at parties or at a bar or something we end up just talking to each other.. it's like we find each other the most interesting to talk to.. even though we see each other more than we see other people. I don't even remember the conversation with that Zack guy to be very interesting.. I think I was just physically attracted to him... he was just very typically my type.

As you could tell the Ritalin did end up kicking in... it is now wearing off.. and my thoughts are not nearly as linear as they were earlier.... even though they appear all over the place.. they were still organized... one thought was on hold while the other would take over.. but the other one was still there... blinking away like an LED on a busy switchboard. Now I have a harder time getting my thoughts out.. I pause in between sentences a lot more. That's why I liked Ritalin in high school.. I felt like I could write on it.. like I had a lot of ideas and I could focus my energy on getting them all on paper. Though I would like to think my Ritalin induced writing isn't as bad as Elizabeth Wurtzel's in that book "Bitch". I couldn't even get through the first chapter because it was just a bunch of rambling run on sentences with a lot of exclamation marks. She was crushing and snorting about 10 pills a day. I read the book that is about her abusing Ritalin while she wrote "Bitch". It's just odd that even after editing that it was that bad.. I could only imagine what kind of tripe her editor had to sift through to find something somewhat publishable.. it got bad reviews too. Though in general I like her writing style.

I started this entry around 7pm and now it's almost 10pm.

I feel like I've broken through the skin and stirred up the soup a bit.

my dinner with c.h.a.d.d.

Yesterday was the first time in my life that I had ever gone to a support group of any kind.

I didn't realize how much a room full of people with ADHD would reek of volatility. There was just this feeling of impending chaos hanging in the air... as if the room was filled with hydrogen and it was just waiting for a little spark to ignite all that potential energy... kind of like the Hindenburg.

I didn't know what to expect when I got there, I was actually kind of nervous. All I knew is that there was going to be pizza. The meeting was held in a small room and had about 10-12 participants. There were men and women.. young and old.. fat and thin.. rich and poor. Everyone was an adult except this one woman brought her two kids. The woman looked like her mother must have done some seriously hard drugs during her first trimester. She was really skinny and skeletal looking with glasses, yellowish skin, and bad teeth. Her two girls looked native. One was probably about 8 and the other was no more than 2. She spent the entire meeting chasing after them.

The 8 year old had an interesting hair cut.. it was slightly undercut, longer on one side and dyed a reddish colour. She had a tomboyish demeanor.. which is apparently common in females who fall under the hyper/impulsive subtype. Her presence was felt as a blur of sound and motion that would travel around the room and bounce off the walls like a fly trapped in a jar. She was ADHD in its purest form... she encompassed all that we were and all that we were holding back.. whether it was by will.. by medication.. or both. While she ripped around at light speed, we sat (somewhat) still in our seats. At one point this little girl interrupts the volunteer lady who was speaking and hands her what looks like a piece of paper with stars and patterns drawn on it with a felt pen and then twirled into the shape of a flower. Before the lady even had a chance to really look at what was in her hand, the girl was off in a road runner like puff of smoke. I was actually impressed by the little thing that she made.. especially because it was probably concocted in a few minutes. As I was thinking this, the volunteer paused for a moment and held up the flower, "Now here's an example of the creativity of ADHD"

The rest of the group consisted of adults ranging from 20 - 65. I think there were more men than women. About half an hour in a guy wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase walks in.. he looked to about 30 years old. Surprisingly this was the only person who was late. He sat at one of the back tables and opened his laptop.

The lady sitting beside me was probably the oddest character of them all. She was in her early forties, grayish hair just below the chin, thick glasses.. and an even thicker mustache. I'm not sure why she doesn't do anything about it.. she wears glasses so I'm assuming she can see.. maybe she doesn't care? Or maybe her ADHD is so bad that she doesn't notice it when she looks in the mirror? After hearing her speak I wouldn't doubt it. She was the main source of tension in the room... she was so hypersensitive and took everything as a personal attack. She wasn't yelling or anything.. but she had such a hard time explaining what she was saying.. and when one of the volunteers or the guest speaker (Pete Quily) interrupted her to ask for clarification, she would be all snappy and be like "Can I finish!? I can't concentrate with all three of you asking me questions at the same time!" She wasn't yelling.. but she was definitely agitated. Clearly she fell into the predominantly inattentive subtype.. she spoke painfully slow and took forever to get her point across. Meanwhile, in my periphery I could see a few drumming fingers and swinging legs. As she spoke I just stared straight down at the table..trying to follow what she was saying while I lightly tapped my toes within my shoes. Not all of us were so subtle however.. the little road runner girl was poking the volunteer on the arm trying to get her attention as she listened to the slow talking mustache lady. This is the point where I felt like we were playing with matches in a dynamite shed... the hyperness of this girl was really distracting.. and I thought Miss Mustache might lose it. But the volunteer was tactful..she just stuck her hand out at the little girl and muttered 'one sec' without breaking eye contact with the mustache lady.

This made me realize that throwing a bunch of ADDers in a room together is like haphazardly mixing unknown chemicals and hoping for the best.

After some group discussion on what we want covered in future meetings, we were put into pairs and had to discuss what we thought our strengths were. This was awkward for me because I don't really know what mine are.. even though Pete stated that it's very important to recognize them if you ever want to be happy and/or find a job you like. He then did that thing where you go around and point at people and they are supposed to say a number in order to be sorted into a group. Not only was this followed by mass confusion due to forgotten numbers and just general difficulty with getting organized, but people got confused during the sorting process itself because they weren't sure which number they should say next or what exactly was even going on (by 'people' I mean myself as well).

My partner was probably the oldest guy there.. I think he said he was somewhere in his 60's. He kind of reminded me of a cross between Hannibal and Kevin Spacey's character from Seven...minus the calm demeanor. He was a wide eyed little man who rocked back and forth played with his fingers as he spoke. His eyes darted around the room and would meet mine for no longer than a second .. this is common ADHD behavior.. I do it as well. One of the things I noticed when I went on medication was that my eye movements became smoother and slower...though sometimes when my symptoms are worse they'll dart around more. If you see old video of me you'll notice the frenetic eye movements. It was strange conversing with this man because his restlessness was making me restless.. I was twisting the strap of my purse and faltering on my words because I kept losing my train of thought. This happens sometimes when I talk to people.. but seeing the behavior mirrored back to me was just odd.. I don't think we were really communicating that well.. it was like being on a phone with bad reception.

The main thing I got out of him was that he was a building manager and was into Tai Chi. When I told him I was a psychology major and that it took me 8 years to finish my bachelor's, he told me that he majored in political science and that it took him 17 years to finish his bachelor's.. he said he started his master's but eventually just gave up on it.

The mustache lady was recently diagnosed.. and I'm guessing this guy was also. I suppose in its more severe form it can be pretty damaging when ADHD has gone unrecognized for so long. This is mainly because the person develops other disorders along the way as a consequence (i.e depression, anxiety, addiction).

This meeting was good for me because besides making me think more positively about myself, it also put things in perspective. Seeing people with worse ADHD made me realize, as Matt put it later, that it was like I had cut off the end of my finger and I was going to a support group for people who had lost entire limbs. Though.. I'm betting if I weren't on medication I would be a bit sketchier.. In that video I saw of myself recently.. I was rocking back and forth and playing with my fingers while my eyes darted around the room. No wonder the doctor pegged it right away.. I never realized how bad it was.. I'm surprised none of my friends and family commented on how odd my behavior was.. but I suppose they were used to it because that's just how I always was.

I remember rocking back and forth a lot.. it was soothing.