#the appointment was literally 12 minutes long I feel like she made no effort to really try to understand my situation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

of-another-broken-heart · 4 years ago

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Today was monthly emergency pantry food pick-up day.

Appointment only.

My mom made the appointment. Because phones trigger meltdowns, phone anxiety (turns out I now go nonverbal after getting triggered isn’t that fun).

I had to use the phone anyway. To get in the door. Out of the fucking snow.

It wasn’t snowing when I left the house. I didn’t put socks on - just flats. That’s all I had the energy for.

But it was snowing as I shook and struggled to punch the pantry number into my phone with freezing fingers after nearly falling down the steps that lead to the pantry in the first place. Because I was dissociating the whole time. No big deal. Whatever. I just don’t try hard enough, you know.

They do a new covid procedure at the pantry. You don’t pick things you will eat any more. You get verbally escorted through a list and just have to hope the elderly filling your bags gives you things you will actually eat.

It takes nearly three times as long, now. What used to be 10-15 minutes is now 30+.

I had an asthma attack bringing the food back up the stairs, in the cold, in the snow, trying not to suck my face mask into my mouth while very consciously trying to regulate my breathing to combat my physically closing air ways. That’s what asthma is, that’s what it does, by the way. It’s an autoimmune problem where your body responds to stress by fucking swelling your air ways to the point you suffocate. It’s not “fatty needs more exercise” and it’s not “they’re so dramatic for putting in this tiny effort” - it’s “their body is literally suffocating them, you absolute fucking villain.”

I was still dissociating. I got to the car. I got the food in the car. I got in the car. I tried to start the car.

The car wouldn’t start.

Dissociating.

I tried to start the car.

The car wouldn’t start.

Screaming.

I tried to start the car. I tried to start the car. I tried, I tried, I tried.

The car wouldn’t start.

Crying.

I struggle to get my mom’s number on my phone.

AT&T Address Book

GO AWAY. GO. AWAY. STOP. I DID NOT PICK YOU. I HAVE, IN FACT, TRIED TO UNINSTALL YOU. GO AWAY. GO. AWAY. GET OUT OF MY WAY.

Contacts. Mom.

Edit?

NO.

Call, Please call. Just call. Speaker. I can’t. I can’t hold this up to my head.

Muffled ringing.

SPEAKER.

I sob and cry and tell her the car won’t start, I’m stuck, again, like always.

Dissociating. Crying. Shouting. Crying.

She gets there and I numbly follow along.

Try to start the car.

It doesn’t start.

No, not even with a little gas.

Try to start the car.

It doesn’t start.

She jumps it. It takes five more tries, even with the cables.

Dissociated driving the whole way home.

Nearly nonverbal dissociated grocery put-away for most of an hour.

A can of mixed vegetables. We have a lot of those. Cabinet. (I put it on the counter).

Pasta. Cabinet. (I put it on the counter)

Pancake mix. Closet. (I put it on the counter)

Mom told me to put them away. I need to put them away. (I stand there)

At some point, things eventually go in the cabinets and the closet.

I’ve been holding on to edges and handles and doorknobs because I feel like I’m going to collapse at any moment. Dissociating.

I take a box of cereal, a can of pears, a soup, a dozen eggs, and a jug of apple juice downstairs with me. It takes me five minutes to go down the 12 concrete steps (including the top floor). I feel like I’m going to fall down. I already hurt enough. I don’t want to hurt any more. I don’t want to hurt any more.

It’s been a half hour. I somehow made tuna sandwiches. We have so much canned tuna. Only mom and I eat it. It’s the only protein the pantry gives me. I never say no. They offer beans but I can’t cook beans. It took me an hour to put away groceries. It took me five entire minutes to get down a flight of stairs.

I can’t do anything.

I can’t go to a critical food appointment even when someone else arranges it for me. Not without something going wrong.

Three years. Three years, and I have been able to leave this house and accomplish a single task without things going wrong - once. Precisely once. One time in THREE. YEARS. Every single other time, I have broken down - mechanically and emotionally. I have been stranded. I have put people out time and effort and money. Every single other time.

I’m not good at anything. I’m not good for anything.

I am a burden and a waste and cursed.

#personal #food mention

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globefan · 6 years ago

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Michelle Terry interview with The Stage

Michelle Terry: ‘This job has taught me that democracy is really hard’

Natasha Tripney

- May 29, 2019

Shakespeare’s Globe artistic director Michelle Terry tells Natasha Tripney about taking over from Emma Rice during a period of trauma for the organisation, why she chose the ‘mythic’ history plays for her latest season, and why Shakespeare will always be relevant

Less than half an hour before our interview, Michelle Terry was on stage playing Hotspur in Henry IV Part I, and when we meet she’s still sporting the character’s black nail varnish and tattoos.

The artistic director of Shakespeare’s Globe is careful with her words, but there’s an undercurrent of exhilaration to her responses as she curls up in an armchair in a corner backstage. That’s no surprise given this is the first ‘trilogy day’ of the venue’s summer season (there will be six in all).

Over the course of the day, the ensemble company will perform Henry IV, parts I and II and Henry V. “It’s extraordinary going out in front of an audience who you know is going to be with you for the long game,” she says.

Explaining the thinking behind this year’s programme, Terry says: “At a time when our nation is in such a state, it made sense to do the state-of-the-nation plays.” The intention is to put on all of the history plays sequentially. The programme began earlier in the year with Richard II in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse with Adjoa Andoh playing the title role. Henry IV and Henry V are playing on the main stage and the cycle will return to the Sam Wanamaker for Henry IV and Richard III, to better explore “the domesticity of these plays, to view them through the prism of candlelight”.

Having referred to them as the history plays, Terry quickly corrects herself: “Calling them history plays reduces them. They’re mythic. We wanted to do all of the myths.”

As Hotspur, Terry is in her element, her performance vivid and playful, dashing, daring, funny. It’s the performance of someone who has total understanding of the space, its potential for intimacy and connection. Her strength of feeling for the building is similarly palpable.

Coming home to Shakespeare’s Globe

When we spoke in 2016, Terry talked with great affection about performing at the Globe, describing it “as a place unlike any other”. When she was appointed artistic director in July of the following year, the trajectory made sense. She took over the role from Emma Rice, who left after only two seasons in charge after disagreements with the board.

Although Terry knew the venue well as a performer, she was less familiar with its workings as an organisation and educational centre. So as well as taking over under difficult circumstances, there was a lot to learn. Looking back, she is able to recognise how tough this transition period was. “The big learning curve was understanding my place as artistic director in the organisation, at a point when it was bruised and people needed healing. It was traumatic.”

In the theatre industry, she adds, “the line between the personal and the professional can be wafer thin”. It was very personal for everyone, but she hopes good has come from it. When she announced her first season, she said: “Emma Rice was the best thing that ever happened to the Globe because it has forced an organisation to go through a healthy form of protest.” Throughout our conversation she returns more than once to the image of collapse and renewal. “We’re still in the renewal phase of figuring out who, how and why we are.”

One of the main features of her first season was the ensemble company with whom she staged Hamlet and As You Like It. She has spoken about a wish to dismantle hierarchies and create work collaboratively with the actors in the creative process.

This year she will revisit and expand the ensemble model. Whereas last year a company of 12 actors performed two plays, this year a company of 10 (11 if you count Terry, though she only performs in Henry IV Part I) will stage all the history, or rather myth, plays. As with last year, it’s a diverse company, with a 50/50 gender split. Part of the thinking behind the ensemble is that it gives the actors more time to work on the texts. “We live together with these plays for 15 weeks,” Terry says. There’s also a longer preview period, because, while a lot of dramaturgic work happens in the rehearsal room, “with Shakespeare you need to test it in front of an audience”.

One of her main intentions is to “release the plays from literal casting”. This is something she reiterates throughout our conversation – that Shakespeare’s plays are anti-literal and mythic. Anyone can play any role. “Shakespeare had an interest in human beings.” That’s a healthier way of looking at his work, she says, adding: “To think what type of human being is this, as opposed to whether they are male or female. The plays are much bigger and multitudinous than that.”

They’re more than fairytales, they’re ‘fated tales’ and “the minute we reduced them to literalism we reduce ourselves”, she adds. Last year, Jack Laskey played Rosalind in As You Like It, and Terry played Hamlet. In the current season, Sarah Amankwah plays Henry V opposite Colin Hurley’s Katharine. Helen Schlesinger plays Falstaff across the season.

She’s aware “our core audience has been through quite a ride with different artistic directors over a short space of time” and wants to reassure them that the work is still experimental. “It’s still radical. Theatre should be provocative but nothing we’re trying to do is antagonistic. I hope it’s liberating.”

One of the biggest successes of that first season was not a production of Shakespeare, but a new play about a writer inextricably linked with him: the English poet Emilia Lanier. Terry had long been fascinated with her. The name Emilia occurs often in Shakespeare’s plays: “I kept accumulating information about her.” She decided to shape the first season around her and stage all of the plays in which Emilia is mentioned. When she approached the playwright Morgan Lloyd Malcolm about the idea of writing a play about the poet, “she burst into tears and I thought: ‘Here we go – that’s your commission.’”

Emilia review at Vaudeville Theatre, London – ‘Morgan Lloyd Malcolm’s play roars into the West End’

Emilia, performed with an all-female cast, ran for just 11 performances at the Globe last summer, but during that time it struck a chord with audiences. The energy it generated, with its galvanising final speech and sense of reclaiming the stage, was incredible. A West End transfer followed. “It’s clearly chimed with many people, not necessarily just women. It’s about wanting to have a voice and be heard.”

The challenges of running the Globe

According to the Globe’s annual report, the 2018 programme, which consisted of 11 productions, attracted 364,422 theatregoers, which amounted to 89% of the Globe’s maximum capacity. School visits were down as was footfall, something attributed in the document to the terrorist incident at London Bridge and cuts to arts education. All of which means the Globe has been obliged to put its major Prospero Project – to create a new library and archive – on hold.

This also explains why, despite the success of Emilia, a decision has been taken not to programme any new writing in the main space this year, though there will be new writing in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse in the winter. Terry cites the unpredictability of Brexit as another factor: “It means we had to be canny about the programming.” It takes time to invest in new writing, she says, especially as the remit of new work at the Globe is that it needs to be tailored to the architecture. “It made sense to give ourselves a year off to invest in writers for 2020.”

The Globe wants to stay reactive, she says, and that’s easier to do with new writing, but Shakespeare’s plays are timeless. “There’s always something in them that illuminates now.” There’s something comforting in knowing things have always been like this. “We’ve always been on the brink of civil war. We’ve always questioned leadership and power.”

What has her first year in the job taught her? “Democracy is really hard.” It’s hard for everyone involved, she stresses, be it assuming a position of power or giving power up. “How do you share responsibility, ownership, accountability? At a certain point the buck has to stop.” She believes theatre is a collaborative and collective art form and “if we’re not having collaborative conversations then it become a disingenuous transaction”.

She adds: “If theatre is to remain vital, then it’s vital we recognise that every individual comes with needs.” This includes parents – she spends a lot of time thinking about ways of improving things for parents in the industry – but it goes deeper than that. “It’s our responsibility to meet whatever those needs are in order for people to thrive, whether it’s an issue of childcare, carers, access. There’s not one size that fits all. Everything needs to be questioned.”

When Terry was six, her family moved from Nuneaton to Weston-super-Mare. In an effort to help her settle in and get to know people, her parents enrolled her and her brother in a local amateur dramatics group. “It’s hard being the new kid, but if you can pretend to be other people it’s easier.” She felt safest playing other people.

Though they’d sometimes go into Bristol to see plays, the Weston-super-Mare pantomime was one of her first introductions to theatre. The best pantomimes, she says, engage with the audience. “I had to sit in the middle of the row, the idea that someone might pick on me or talk to me was terrifying.”

Once she’d decided she wanted to work in theatre, she set about finding ways to make it happen. Following a degree in English at Cardiff University, she applied and got in to RADA. It’s important, she stresses, to have a period of time in your life when you “learn how to fail and how to pick yourself up”.

She made her stage debut in 2004 as Edith, the maid, in Peter Hall’s production of Blithe Spirit, alongside Penelope Keith, Joanna Riding and Amanda Drew. The production ended up in the Savoy Theatre in the West End. Barbara Kirby – who played Mrs Bradman – and Terry couldn’t believe their luck. “We’d always wanted to do theatre – and here we were doing it.”

Having worked on Blithe Spirit for a year, Terry ended up back in Weston-super-Mare working as a medical secretary. “That was awful,” she says. Having lived the life she’d dreamed of living, she was worried that was all she would get, that it wouldn’t happen again. Then in 2005, she was cast as Celia in As You Like It at the New Vic in Newcastle-under-Lyme and, as she puts it, “got lucky”.

A Royal Shakespeare Company casting director was travelling from Edinburgh when his train broke down and he ended up seeing her show. This led to her being cast in Dominic Cooke’s 2006 production of The Crucible. From that point on she’s worked steadily. “There never was a shooting star moment”. There have, however, been “painful periods of not working.” Then suddenly, she says, there are moments in which you realise: “Oh my God, I’m 40 and I’ve been doing it for 20 years. Only then can you finally allow yourself to say: ‘Okay, we’re doing all right.’”

Terry’s work at the Royal Shakespeare Company included Pericles and The Winter’s Tale. In 2007, she made her first appearance on the Globe stage in Love’s Labour’s Lost. In 2011, she won an Olivier award for best actress in a supporting role for Nina Raine’s Tribes, in which she played a woman gradually losing her hearing.

She acquired a reputation as an actor of nuance and insight. The Guardian’s Michael Billington referred to her as “a thinking actor,” meaning her approach to the roles she plays is as analytical as it is intuitive. Observer theatre critic Susannah Clapp called her “one of our most glorious actresses”.

Terry starred in Marianne Elliott’s All’s Well That Ends Well in 2009 and The Comedy of Errors, both at the National, returning to the Globe in 2013 to play Titania in Dominic Dromgoole’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “Shakespeare is and will always be my first love,” she says.

Continues…

Q&A Michelle Terry

What was your first professional theatre job? Blithe Spirit for the Peter Hall company.

What’s your next job? No idea.

What do you wish someone had told you when you were starting out? One in five people won’t like you and there is nothing you can do about it.

Who or what was your biggest influence? My old amateur dramatics teacher, my music teacher and Shakespeare.

What’s your best advice for auditions? Auditions are a separate skill – treat them like they’re meetings. It’s as important for you to know if you can work with who you’re meeting, as it is for them to know if they can work with you.

If you hadn’t been an actor, what would you have been? I never gave myself the option.

Do you have any theatrical superstitions or rituals? Tongue twisters: I have a sequence I have to do before every show, otherwise God knows what will happen.

The following year she was back at the RSC for Christopher Luscombe’s double-bill of Love’s Labour’s Lost and Much Ado About Nothing, and reunited with McIntyre to play Rosalind in As You Like It at the Globe in 2015. One of her most flooring performances was in Katie Mitchell’s merciless production of Sarah Kane’s Cleansed at the National.

What drives her as a performer is “that feeling that you’re part of something that matters,” and she adds: “If you throw yourself into every role that you do, there will always be a moment where your life changes because of it.”

We talk about the cuts to arts in education. She grows even more impassioned, her frustration palpable. In order to develop an understanding, a love, of Shakespeare, she explains, it’s essential to have the opportunity to see it performed. “Theatre is so experiential. The plays are meant to be experienced. They are vibrant and vital and alive.”

Shakespeare is not just words on a page. We don’t appreciate the power of language to transform, she says, invoking Greta Thunberg, “this young kid standing with just words and everyone listening”. She mentions the Globe’s Playing Shakespeare education project for schools, in which 20,000 free tickets were given to students for Romeo and Juliet. “These London kids who experience knife crime every day are watching a play about knife crime – it’s so powerful. Theatre has the capacity to be miraculous,” she says.

One of the things she’s struggled with over the last year is “carving out time to be reflective, which is so important to staying creative”. Her daily life is “so atomic” and currently it’s hard to think past Hotspur, which lines landed, which didn’t. “It’s hard to find time.” Especially when running a major building.

Director Ian Rickson taught her a vital lesson about being an artistic director. He told her: “There are very few people who will understand how overwhelming it is – all I can say to you is: don’t miss the abundance.” With a job like this, she says: “We’re in the weeds all of the time. It’s important to take a moment to look up and realise how lucky we are.”

CV Michelle Terry

Born: 1979, Nuneaton Training: RADA Landmark productions: • Love’s Labour’s Lost, Shakespeare’s Globe, London (2007) • All’s Well That Ends Well, National Theatre, London (2009) • Tribes, Royal Court, London (2010) • A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare’s Globe (2013) • Love’s Labour’s Lost and Much Ado About Nothing, Royal Shakespeare Company, Stratford-upon-Avon (2014) • Cleansed, National Theatre (2016) • Henry V, Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre, London (2016) • Hamlet, Shakespeare’s Globe (2018) Awards: • Olivier award for best actress in a supporting role for Tribes (2011)

Shakespeare’s Henry plays run at the Globe until October 11

#Michelle Terry #Shakespeare's Globe

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cosmosogler · 7 years ago

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today my brain, like some kind of drunk frat boy, said “remember that bs we did yesterday? let’s do it again! round 2!!!” in my head i am imagining sam rockwell’s voice.

i didn’t sleep well at all. my eyes felt bruised. my jaw feels bruised. my teeth hurt all the time.

i did, however, manage to shower, eat, clean up after snoopy, and pack and leave by 9:05. so i was in the physics building at 9:30. i had trouble getting settled. i was workin by 10:10 though.

snoop and i are having a disagreement about where the litter box should be. i think that it should be in an area that’s easy to keep clean. snoopy thinks it should be on top of my couch.

i worked until about 12 when i took a break for lunch. my lunch was pretty bad though and very much not enough. i felt sick even from a pbj. i managed to talk harrison into grabbing some lunch from the food court (by talking him into it i mean i asked and before i could finish he said “yes”). pizza was a bad idea... i felt sick after that too, but less like i was gonna shrivel up from lack of food. i might still be losing weight. hard to eat.

that took longer than i wanted it to so i sat back down and continued reading my textbook at 1:15-ish. i have two assignments due tomorrow... i was going to start them today. i was. i wanted to finish reading the textbook so i wouldn’t feel lost and overwhelmed when it came time to solve problems. reading is such slow going though... at 1:50 i stopped to go to my appointment with disability resources. i was there for about 50 minutes. i started feeling really upset when we went over rudimentary study strategies and what, exactly, happens when i try to take tests. danielle said she remembered that i had told my case worker that i’d passed out during the prelims.

i tried to focus on some goals. i half-joked that i was hoping she could get me reading the textbook four times as fast after my appointment. she said to focus on feeling less isolated and to try to relax. she gave me some mindfulness exercise mp3s from a web site so i downloaded a couple that looked interesting this evening. i haven’t tried them yet, but i stuck to the ones that were 5-10 minutes long.

it feels like relaxing only works half the time. last time, when i took my finals in undergrad, i felt relatively confident going into my observational astronomy test. like, i’d studied for 5 days, i hadn’t used ALL the strategies but i did go over all the material. and i got a 50% on that test. it brought my grade down from a solid b into c- territory.

so it’s hard to see the point of being less stressed when i go into tests. because now i know that being less stressed won’t actually help. that stresses me out more.

i noticed when describing how my semester has gone so far that i seem to really know what i’m talking about when i’m talking with my classmates about physics. as soon as i gotta prove that i know stuff to my professor, though, it’s all gone. and when i calm down a little and get working on problems, my brain reaches for stuff i know to connect to the questions, and it picks the wrong stuff. but i don’t notice i am using the wrong stuff, because my brain pulled it down from the shelf and told me it’s what i needed. and at that point i’m so relieved to feel like i know what i’m doing that i just do the problems completely wrong and i look hella dumb.

scrambled connections.

so that’s where i seem to be at. some insight, maybe? after that i went back to the department, got distracted talking to suzanne (her fiance’s cousin died and they are leaving for his funeral so she won’t be around this weekend), got some cookies with keegan and harrison, and then sat down and worked for another hour and a half.

i got that feeling, like, where if you’re doing some form of hard physical activity, stamina wise. when your stamina is gone, and you kind of realize it’s gone a few seconds before your body gives and breaks. i got that deeply uncomfortable, wrong, “it’s time to stop right now” sort of feeling. so i went home real quick after that even though i still hadn’t started my homework problems. i’d made good progress on my reading... i hoped i could read a little more at home even though it was a long shot.

when i got home i didn’t feel like washing my pots to cook anything so i made a microwave meal. i took some time to brush snoopy. i opened the window to let in some fresh air and looked out over the courtyard. i fudged around with youtube for a little bit and did some administrative emailing. i had a couple oreos, maybe three.

then i actually, honest to god, sat down and read the textbook. it was incredible. when my timer went off i took a break and stretched while snoopy watched. then i just laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling for like three minutes.

i got back to it after i checked my updated comics! i finished the chapter, which was my goal actually. some of the work is in chapter 4, i think... the professor wants us to be 3/4 of the way through chapter 4 by tomorrow morning and we all had a good chuckle over that.

i asked around a bit and it seems like not a lot of the other students read the textbooks. i dunno. i know it’s hard, and i know it’s kind of helping me procrastinate on the actual homework, but i do feel more comfortable in lectures when i’ve read the section. it’s easier to keep track of where the professor is going. and it’s easier to figure out what the questions want me to do, and where to find helpful stuff in the book.

some of it’s helpful, some of it’s not. i emailed both my professors in the afternoon and told them i didn’t think i’d have my assignments done by tomorrow morning. the classical professor said to just bring it in on monday which is a relief. my quantum professor didn’t get back to me. i didn’t see him in his office either. i hope he’s ok.

i finished that around 9:40. now it’s 10:15. stretching really did help a lot. might need to do that after i get home every day. stretching my back has helped a little bit, but if i do everything then i might actually feel better instead of just “not worse.”

i somehow pulled both of my shoulders in my sleep the other night though and wearing a backpack’s been agony. it might help to get a backrub but i wouldn’t let anyone massage my back or shoulders even if i was dead. if someone came up behind my corpse it would fly away like a thrown muppet.

i don’t like massages, or spas, or that kind of stuff in general. i can tolerate being emotionally vulnerable sometimes but the idea of being physically vulnerable is like a cold wall of fear and uncertainty and anxiety. i’m already physically vulnerable. if you wanted to grab me or hurt me there’s not really anything i could do about it. but specifically relaxing, in water where it’s hard to move, or laying down or letting someone stand around behind me, feels like it’s inviting problems. can’t do it.

that and my back has all kinds of nerve damage from my heart surgery. when people touch the area wrong or it gets bumped on a table my whole side either feels like knives or just goes fuzzy and numb and i can’t move my arm any more. neither of those feels good!!!

my side gets sore when it’s muggy out too. since the scar tissue is on my right side, having my whole dominant arm be kind of weak and fussy is really irritating.

i know it could get worse. i know things could be worse. but that doesn’t mean they are good now.

thinkin about that makes me miserable.

it feels like a got a lot done today. but it also feels like i got the wrong stuff done, even though i know that my homework would have been frustrating and basically impossible without doing all this reading first. i hate sitting and reading the textbook and my classmates look over and ask how much of the assignment i’ve got done and i have to say “none” even as the sun goes down and the staff goes home.

it feels like i didn’t try hard enough, even though i literally could not have done any more today. my best just isn’t good enough. baby steps aren’t what my professors want. they want me running the marathon with everyone else. i mean, yeah, walking a bit is better than laying on the ground, but i’m still not gonna hit the finish line by the end of the day. it’s so, so hard to get to the end of the day and praise myself for doing just a little bit, even when i feel like hot garbage and one problem was a gargantuan effort. it’s so discouraging to look at my work and be like, “yeah! i did it! i read for an hour today, even though i was very depressed!” when i needed to read for five hours, and now tomorrow to catch up i have to read for another five hours plus the four i didn’t get around to that day.

i mean, it’s not ten hours i need to catch up on. it could be worse. but nine hours is still not good. nine hours is still really bad!

i mentioned a stupid thing before the “read more” cut that i didn’t get around to during the bulk of my entry. i had another panic attack for like forty minutes. right when i left my apartment before i even got to the elevator i felt sick and sweaty and breathless. i wanted to complain to someone but there wasn’t no one there so i just struggled to breathe by myself for a while. it was basically a repeat of yesterday. angry about a big dude grabbing me in the dark and instead of apologizing, saying “i’ll touch you whenever i want.” REAL COOL!!! he’s my step dad. not technically related.

i don’t like having panic attacks. don’t get a lot done when that’s happening and afterward i just feel drained and that makes it hard to get moving again. i’m still upset. but i really don’t feel comfortable making myself all gooey and weak in front of these people i hardly know, especially when they ain’t really talked about any of their problems either. i don’t wanna freak out at someone i don’t know that well four weeks into the semester. that would be bad.

anyway i’m going to go to bed on time for once tonight, so i gotta wrap it up here. i’m so tired. i’m going to do that five-minute meditation thing and see if that changes anything.

(edit: it helped.)

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sweet-hypocrisy · 6 years ago

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I Need to Use This More

Going back and rereading some of these posts have been interesting.

2018 was a bit of an eye opener for me. I learned that hell, I do actually have BPD. Ironic, considering I wrote a post bitching about how my mother tried to label me as such to absolve any responsibility for her shit ability to be an emotionally nurturing parenting. Kicker: I have BPD because of my parents. However, they’re not going to fix me. I need to let go of my anger toward them. My resentment. They’re never going to accept responsibility. My mom will make comments at times. Like when I went over there and broke down in a moment of weakness and went to her freaking out when I found the diagnosis. She told me she knows she’s not the greatest mother and she wasn’t very friendly and warm. She blamed her own childhood. Which from the bits and pieces I’ve gathered over 30 years, I don’t disagree. But it’s always felt more of an opportunity for me to comfort her for her parenting. I wonder if I do the same thing.

I’ve been struggling to cope with the fact that I more than likely have a personality disorder. Mainly, the stigma attached to it. There are times where I go on places like the BPD subreddit, hear how awful Lina is with her BPD, and think that’s not me. No, it is. I have just learned to internalize more and have gotten consequences for not doing so.

I seek validation too often, and I often feel like I manipulate or guilt trip to get that. I feel like an emotional abuser. I cling too hard. People don’t know it, but I make everyone responsible for my mood. Or I blame people for my mood. I’m responsible for that. Nobody else. I can’t control my unstable emotions. My emotions change at the drop of a hat. Yesterday I woke up feeling refreshed, motivated, ready. I organized the house. Took Fiona on a 3 mile walk. Felt accomplished. Then the toilet started leaking all over, into the basement. And I spiralled. So far this morning I have cried twice over minor inconveniences and I just feel so alone and angry. So far for that this morning I have blamed my best friend and husband. Why? Because the composter I was promised would be built is still not (we’ve been busy, had house guests for a week, and I can also build it my fucking self), and is now missing parts and it feels like the responsibility to return and fix my own Christmas gift is on me. Which, I guess it should be. He just bought it. Why does he have to do everything for it? My best friend is texting me to vent about her roommate/best friend she likely has replaced me with, mentioned wanting to plan a surprise party for him. I already feel replaced, and I’m feeling the huge pangs of loss, jealousy. Because she hasn’t done that for me ever (granted, I don’t think I’ve done it for her, either). I do now remember her getting a “surprise” dinner together with Dan when I left Petsmart. She does send me occasional surprise gifts and cards. I need to remember that. My original statement wasn’t fair to make. Again, with assuming the worst of people. I guess my feelings are coming from feeling distanced from her. Literally, and figuratively. She moved just far enough away to deter the will to drive to and from each other as much as we used to. She started a new job (which she loves, which makes me happy) where she works nights and weekends, which directly conflicts with mine. So that’s two strikes against us. Yet, I spent 12 days off texting her every day over Christmas break and only managed to spend an hour with her. I feel like I make the effort far more than she does. I’m not sure if she does that with everyone, or if it’s just me. I always ask to hang out. I often text her first. Part of me worries she is depressed. She promises me she’s fine. I asked her if there was something wrong with us. She promises we’re fine. Yet, why don’t I believe her? Is it because there is something there, of is it my fucking fear of abandonment? We also have way different...lifestyles, I guess. Well, kind of. As much as she stays in bed and goes to bed at 9pm as I do, she also goes clubbing and bar hopping until 4am. That shit is so far in my past, with the exception of maybe a few nights a year. I’m sure for the most part, all of her other friends would find me incredibly grandma-like and lame. Which is probably fair, lol.

Anyway, back to this toilet situation that somehow ruins my life. My fucked up thought process: blame my husband..sort of. More his job, which he chooses to be employed at. He was supposed to be home Friday. So..somehow the toilet leaking Saturday night is his fault. Like he deliberately made it leak for me to deal with. Of course not. But I tried to find help. Nobody around willing to help. To be fair, he did video chat me and we found the solution, just don’t have the parts to do it. Reality: I’m frustrated with the fact that these things tend to happen when I am alone and I hate feeling out of control by the fact that I do not have the knowledge and skills to fix it myself. So it comes out as anger. It comes out as anger when I feel upset by the fact that I don’t feel like I can depend on people to come help me. Dan’s dad is up North (not that I’m angry at him about it). Jason said he’d come over today, and while he doesn’t often flake in situations like this, he does flake on other things just enough for the seed of doubt to be planted. At the same time I feel guilty he was asked, because I feel like this family treats him as the bitch and errand boy and I feel bad. I literally never ask my parents to help me with a Goddamn thing, and I’m not sure what to expect when they said they’d be over at “some point” to help me. Dan being gone automatically made everything his fault. He is my scapegoat. It’s not fair, and I feel like a terrible wife. When I realize I’m doing this, all I want to do is throw myself off of a bridge. He tried helping me from where he was. Why isn’t that good enough? Like..the only acceptable thing would have been to drop everything, hop on a plane, and come home in 5 minutes and just fix it. That’s not realistic. It’s not even reasonable. He called his dad. He called Jason. He video chatted me. He showed me what to do. Why wasn’t that enough at the time? I remember telling him how it wasn’t fair because there is NEVER a time where he physically was stuck doing something and I wasn’t there to support him. Maybe I’m still resentful because of the miscarriage. Driving myself to the emergency room. Sitting in a room by myself as they delivered the news that I was no longer pregnant when I didn’t even know I was to begin with. When they told me, alone, that our child was estimated 6-8 weeks based on hormone levels and tissue they found remaining in ultrasound. The horrible procedure of removing what was left. Coming home and being stuck wearing diaper pads while I bled. I know it was hard on him. I know he wanted to be there. But he wasn’t. I need to let it go. It’s just made me more afraid to be here alone. What next huge thing is he going to have to miss? He is always here for me. He’s a phone call away. A text away. But he can’t always answer his phone. I just..want him to stay the fuck home. I don’t care if we are stuck in this house for the rest of our lives and he takes a huge pay cut. I can’t take it anymore. I think it’s the one thing that’s going to break us, if there is one. That or my psychotic being will become too much for him. Surprise it hasn’t yet. Maybe it is. Maybe I’ll be the very last to know. I don’t know.

I get so resentful and frustrated when he’s gone. Naturally I have to take on more of the burden when he’s home. All of the cleaning, cooking, appointments, caring for the pets, any minor inconvenience is on me. And I make it all his fault. Like he personally fucking enjoys staying in a shitty hotel room away from home while his wife does everything. He tells me he wouldn’t care if I literally did nothing and he came home to a sink full of dishes. Maybe I do it all because I know I’d be fucking irritated if I came home from a 2 week business trip to a total fucking mess waiting for me (and truthfully feel like I would come home to. Not sure if it’s accounting for my husband’s lack of urgency or attention to detail or me being an asshole and assuming the worst). I do it for him so he can come home and feel like he can relax without an immediate to-do list waiting for him. Yet I do it because I like to provide for him, while at the same time resent him for having to do everything. What the fuck, Nicole. I think some of this is not liking to be by myself. It’s not even just the fact that I’m alone, physically. Being alone gets me stuck in my own head. And if you hate yourself, why would you want to be with yourself, 24 hours a day? It’s always the weekends that get bad for me when he’s gone. Mainly, it’s because as I near my 30′s and people get busy, I can’t get anybody to fucking hang out with me. I’m on my own. During the week I have 10 hours of work to distract me, and then I enjoy coming home for a few hours and then going to bed. Weekends are 48 hours of solitude. And I almost feel guilty for like..having fun and doing stuff without him. Which is 100% on me. I don’t need to do that. But he often will tell me to do wait to do things (like around the house), etc. for when he gets home. And then weeks and weeks pass. Sidevent, I’m so tired of being the motivator and scheduler for these things. Like...our bathroom is still not done. I keep mentioning what needs to get done (aka him to do) and it doesn’t get done. Our front door still isn’t fucking installed and we bought in September. His fucking job gets in the way of everything. It sucks all of his time, energy, and motivation. But they keep throwing money at him so it’s fine. It’s not. He tells me all of the time he’s just content to sit at home doing nothing during our free time because of his long hours and travel. I don’t have either and never get to leave this fucking town, so all I want to do is do so. I want to see the world. People. Dive into other cultures and learn. I feel like he wants anything but. It makes me feel trapped. Tethered. Leashed. Maybe I need to learn to just go and do these on my own. But again, I do so much by myself and alone already...why do I need to add another thing? I do so much alone. Grocery shopping, cleaning, hanging out, visiting our friends. Now I have to travel alone?

So much of my life I thought a lot of my thought processes were an account of my upbringing. Which, I guess it still is. Or was me being humble, modest. I have always assumed the worst of people (in ways such as people promising to do something for me and I will immediately and plan accordingly and assume they will never fulfill that promise because I’m not important enough to keep a promise for or be cared about). I always make myself the point of blame and scapegoat myself in situations. Reality: it’s actually pretty fucking selfish. Not everything is about me. Someone can be upset by something entirely outside of me, dumbass. I am not the cause of everything horrible. I will always convince myself that people don’t like me. Don’t love me. Don’t care about me. Don’t want to be around me. It’s incredibly lonely. I don’t know how to make it stop.

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justanothergrl · 6 years ago

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mission: recovery; part 1

I feel like I always have a lot to say, but this topic I believe is about to be extra long, so thanks for continuing to read haha.

Before I begin, there are two things that I want to stress on. No system is perfect but maybe raising awareness can bring about changes. One can only hope.

#1: I told you guys this already - it was impossible for me to get into a rehab or a detox facility. They say all over the news about how it’s an epidemic, yet resources are scarce. That whole situation was ridiculous and I’d like to put this into perspective for you- IF I had still been in my hometown in MI, things could’ve very easily gone a different route. After being turned away I could’ve very easily said “screw it” and went back to using. So you see how that’s an issue right? Someone trying to get help and being turned away? After all I’ve told you so far, I shouldn’t have to explain any further. I told you all it takes is one time. One time and I could’ve overdosed. One time and I might not of been here writing this to you. I told you I’m not sugarcoating. I’m grateful to be here, but we all know not everyone’s that lucky.

#2: What do you do after you detox? There’s no manual for this. If you’re able to get into a rehab, well they do meetings and stuff, or so I’m told. There are a lot of resources to help people, it’s just not common knowledge. I told you I didn’t associate with others while using, so it’s not like I could turn to them with my questions. There’s got to be a way to fix that, so that others can know what options they have available. And more importantly, that they’re not alone.

So let’s, again, rewind to right after I finished detoxing in December. I agreed with my Dad that I would find an outpatient program- something I could hopefully afford. Fortunately I was able to find a place about 20 minutes from us that worked with you if you didn’t have insurance. Making that phone call still wasn’t easy. I had to force out every word. I’ve only been clean for a couple of weeks. I need help. Each word took effort as if I was learning to say it for the first time. My shame was still there. I felt as if I was the lowest person on earth. The woman on the other end of the phone was sweet. Do I deserve to be treated so nice? She told me I would need to come in for an assessment and we’d go from there. Easy enough?

The morning of my appointment it snowed. I was anxious. The entire ride there I gave myself a pep talk. You can do this Sara. You need to do this. Things can only get better from here. I parked the car and stared at the clock. I was almost 40 mins early. Maybe they’ll see me sooner? I forced myself to open the car door. Before I knew it, I was making my way through the parking lot. I wanted to turn around, start the car, and drive home, yet my body wasn’t listening. I entered through the automatic sliding doors and was blasted with heat from a fan above. I stood in the doorway, wobbly, and made eye contact with an older woman behind the desk. She smiled up at me and then looked down. I stood there awkwardly brushing my hair out of my eyes. There was a glass wall surrounding the desk. I took a step forward and we made eye contact once again. I swallowed the lump in my throat and was able to squeak out: “Um, where’s addiction services?”

“Up the elevator, left, and left again- you’ll see the signs. Sorry dear, I thought you worked here!”

I looked around. No one else. Good. I walked over to the open doors, stepped into the empty elevator, and pushed button 3. I watched the doors close as I stepped back against the wall. I hate elevators. Please, please, please don’t let me get stuck in here all by myself. 1... 2... 3. Thankfully the doors opened almost as fast as they had closed and I rushed out into the hallway, almost knocking over an older gentleman with a cane. Oops. “I’m so sorry!” I could feel my face turn red. He just smiled and continued into the elevator. Relax, Sara.

I was in that waiting room for what seemed like forever. I signed my name on the clipboard and chose a seat close to the counter. I looked around. The room was empty. Finally, I was called over and given a stack of paperwork to fill out. This time I chose a different seat, closer to the door. Included on the clipboard was a test, you know the ones that give you statements and you circle which fits you- the “I often feel this way” vs “I never feel this way” and all of the options in between. What’s the point in this? I told them I have an addiction, what’s that have to do with how I feel? I filled everything out and handed it to the lady behind the counter. Then I sat some more. A guy around my age entered, signed in at the desk, and sat down in a chair across the room. We make eye contact and he smiles. I stare down at my boots. Did I really expect to not see another living soul here? I’ll probably never see him again. Why am I embarrassed? I looked over at the door. There’s still time to run, Sara. Then, as if somehow they could hear my thoughts, I hear “I’ll do her assessment” and the door opens. An older gentleman (maybe mid 60’s) steps out and smiles in my direction “follow me.” We sit down in his office as he explains to me that he’s the person in charge here. As he rattles on all I can focus on is the annoying jazz music blasting from the boom box thats sitting on top of the filing cabinet across from me. Is he going to turn that down? The door is cracked open & I watch a woman walk by. Okay maybe the music is so people can’t hear what we’re saying? I relax back in the chair. This shouldn’t be too bad. “Tell me how you got here.” I notice his right arm is in a sling. “Does addiction run in your family?” Typing with one hand has to take forever to get anything done. “Have you ever been raped or abused?” I shuffle in my seat, what does that have to do with anything? I answer each question, avoiding eye contact, even though the words were spilling out of my mouth like I was talking with an old friend. In a sense it felt freeing, to say everything out loud. As I talked, he typed. “Have you ever thought about suicide?” “No.” I yank down on the sleeve of my coat and look at the floor. Hmm, nice briefcase. “Good.” He then begins saying out loud what he’s typing as if we’re in the doctors office “patient seems to have good hygiene” tap, tap, tap. He looks over at me. “She is casually dressed” tap, tap, tap. I looked down, I was wearing jeans and a hoodie. Should I of dressed up for this? I must of had a look of confusion on my face because he immediately reassured me it’s all part of the process and not to worry. Okay. At the end of what seemed like an eternity of questions, he lifted some papers off of his desk and turned in his chair to face me “So looking over your results on the test we had you take, your results are literally off the paper.” That’s good right? He held the papers up for me to see, and I looked at the chart in the middle of the page. “You are very depressed. Are you aware of this?” I shook my head no. Guess that wasn’t good. We make eye contact. “Well, maybe a little.” No more lies, Sara. I stared down at my boots. He went on to tell me that he had high hopes for me. He told me he was going to put me in IOP- intensive outpatient program. It was going to be Monday, Tuesday’s, & Thursday’s 9-12 for 12 weeks straight, starting after New Years...

And so it began... the beginning of my recovery. I want you to live through this with me, so hopefully my writing doesn’t fail me now. Ready?

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thecelestialjukebox · 7 years ago

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Best of 2017: 20-11

20. Minimall - Static:

Literally everyone I’ve shown this song to has loved it, and it’s easy to see why— from its sunny guitar intro to its horn-driven break, “Static” is a joyous, expertly crafted slice of power pop.

19. Sun-El Musician, Samthing Soweto - Akanamali (feat. Samthing Soweto):

This bit of South African dance-pop, produced by Sun-El Musician and sung by Samthing Soweto, is the kind of song that’s so superbly relaxed that you just want to reside in its grooves, luxuriate in how hypnotically this song moves. Soweto is perhaps the most wonderful thing here, delivering a truly joyful performance— but then again the organ solo that finishes the song is also pretty damn beautiful. (also there’s apparently a lot of South African pop fandom #discourse about how bad the music video is lmao)

18. Thundercat, Michael McDonald, Kenny Loggins - Show You The Way:

Between this, the inexplicable Vulfpeck/Solange/Doobie Brothers live collab, and my newfound love for “I Keep Forgetting,” I’ve heard Michael McDonald’s voice way more than I thought I would this year. But while his verse is undeniably the best of the three on “Show You The Way,” deep and soulful and entirely committed to the retro aesthetics of the song, it’s not like Thundercat and Kenny Loggins aren’t worthy companions. Also, the outro contains very helpful advice regarding proper hydration, because Thundercat is a civically-minded funk star.

17. Rapsody, Kendrick Lamar, Lance Skiiiwalker - Power:

Two amazing things here: 1. in a year where Kendrick Lamar was everywhere, dropping profound, funny, and technically adept verses both on his album, his pre-album singles, and a seemingly arbitrary set of features, his best verse was on “Power,” a track from North Carolinian rapper Rapsody. 2. He’s not even the best rapper on the track— that honor belongs to Rapsody, who ties together all the varieties of power that uplift and corrupt into two compact verses full of masterful wordplay.

16. Julie Byrne - Sleepwalker:

“Sleepwalker” makes sense. There is some part of my brain that has always yearned for music that sounded like this— not just folk, stripped down and shorn of the unnecessary garnishes of most music, but folk that feels so light, not weighted down by soil or really anything else in the world. The obvious connection point is the 70s radio folk of James Taylor or Cat Stevens, but even in their cases the ties to pop idioms were clear. “Sleepwalker” isn’t bound to anything else— it sounds only like itself, sounds only like the clear and true.

15. The Mountain Goats - Shelved:

The surprising thing about “Shelved” is not that I love a Mountain Goats song about fighting desperately for your dreams in the face of an indifferent world, but instead that the part of it that I love most isn’t even sung by John Darnielle. Instead, the climax of “Shelved,” a beam of light that cracks through the icy, tense groove of ego and defiance that Darnielle builds for two and a half minutes, is delivered by the band’s bassist, long-time contributor Peter Hughes. Hughes delivers his outro over a sunny, chorused bass solo, spreading the gospel of cutting your losses and getting a day job like it’s the last hope we have.

14. Calvin Harris, Frank Ocean, Migos - Slide:

In a year of inexplicable musical happenings, perhaps the most miraculously great was “Slide,” which not only recognizes that a collaboration between Migos, Frank Ocean, and Calvin Harris didn’t need to happen and probably shouldn’t work, but even seems to revel in its own implausibility. “Slide” flows effortlessly, moving from Frank to Quavo to Offset back to Frank with grace, and in those transitions it gels into something greater, a futuristic groove beyond structure that you can just fall into.

13. Julien Baker - Appointments:

Julien Baker’s music is sad and beautiful, but not, per se, beautiful in its sadness — none of her songs valorize pain or suffering, make glamorous the things that gnaw at you and try to destroy you. “Appointments,” the lead single off her sophomore effort, “Turn Off the Lights,” is the most fully-formed thing she’s made yet; the beauties and sadnesses here are that much sharper as the arrangement builds, with her multi-tracked voice carrying her simple, effective lyrics with an honesty and clarity that very few singer-songwriters possess. Baker’s first album was lo-fi, mostly just her and her guitar, so the pianos and orchestral tinges of “Appointments” are almost jarring to hear around her. Yet the rawness and passion that Baker has always carried are heightened, not diminished by her new trappings.

12. Japanese Breakfast - Diving Woman:

“Diving Woman” sounds like the Pacific Ocean. Not just in its lyrics, which piece together the worlds of the Korean women who dive for shellfish off the coast of the island of Jeju and of Michelle Zauner, the Half-Korean woman who tours under the name Japanese Breakfast, but in all of its overwhelming sonics, all of the layers of interlocking guitars that seem to unfurl across the track and burbling synths, constant in the background. “Diving Woman” is the first track off of Japanese Breakfast’s sophomore album and it’s perhaps the purest distillation of that album’s appeal— Zauner doesn’t just tell you a story or awe you with musical heroics (although she can definitely do that— check the surprisingly arena rock riffs here), but she builds palaces of sound, rich and welcoming compositions that transport you.

11. Frank Ocean - Chanel:

Frank Ocean releasing something as casual and unimportant as “Chanel,” a song that seems to start in media res, aware of its own throwaway nature, is wonderful in itself. In the wilderness period of Frank fandom (~2012-mid2016), any rumor or fragment of the singer that could be found was scrutinized with a gnostic eye, with that desperate vision only growing with the years. Now that Blond(e) has come and gone, it seems like we can finally appreciate a Frank Ocean song simply as a song. And “Chanel” is a masterful song, showcasing Frank’s rapping and singing skills— but really more the rapping, because we already know the things his voice can do in that latter category, and I’m not sure if anyone was fully aware that he could rap a verse as effortlessly dextrous as the first one here, or one that plays with sounds as well as the second, or a boast as out there as the one about rubberbanding delta gift cards in the outro.

#best of 2017 #music

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katiemulvihillxo-blog · 8 years ago

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12 June 2017

My luck ever going to change? This morning, me and Jord walked to the doctors and jords medication is getting brought down when he comes home, yay!!! Came back and we cuddled, lying there I knew saying goodbye won’t be easy. We lie there and I feel him trying to rub my belly and even though I hate when he does it, I love that he loves what I hate! He can accept me when I can’t even accept myself! He is so lovely and I love him so much. Anyway, went for my driving lesson today, I have gotten so much better, I’m so worried though when I start driving alone that something bass going to happen!! ;Right got back and got ready, put jords clothes in the wash and headed to town. Thought I'd give him a wee blowjob as a going away present but I can't even do that anymore. I used to be good, like really good? Now I can't even make him cum without him having to wank a bit. What's wrong with me? Apart from that Lovely wee walk, just chatting shite to him. Right I’ll continue this later because ed sheeran - kiss me is on tele and I know I’m going to start crying again. Got myself together now, I’ll crack on. So in town, got Jord shorts and stuff for his laundry then headed back. Got to jords and tension with Jord started to build. But let’s face it, it was inevitable. So I’ve being dying for a date night for months, like ever since we’ve started dating, we’ve never really had a date since our first date so I’ve being mad for us just to do something. Something other then sitting in a pub somewhere watching Jord look on Facebook or reply to some group chat. Firstly, was meant to go to the zoo, that got cancelled because of jords work meeting, which I completely understand! After that we were meant to go bowling and Martha’s but that got cancelled because he had to go to a funeral that he didn’t even want to go to but only went for a McDonald’s breakfast, don’t understand that excuse but I’d of accepted it if he had rearranged the date night. Anyway, we were then meant to go odyssey and do the whole bowling thing there, well that got sacked for Hatfield, obviously. And today was out final chance for a date before he went away. Well every other girlfriend got a date day before their boyfriends headed out? Gemma went beach and bowling and shit, aoife went for a meal, Jodie went for a meal and day out etc, but in between all the last min rushing around I was hoping to have a bit of time with my boyfriend so wanted to go parlour for lunch. Got to parlour and all he did was sit on his phone and text into his group chat, only conversation I think he made was how he didn’t like Long Island iced tea cocktail (because that’s what I was drinking) and how he was sweaty when he took off his jacket. I didn’t care at the time because I thought “well there’s still time”, but I hadn’t even finished my last slice of pizza and he’d invited Aaron. Like I really wouldn’t of minded if it was a wee bit later but seriously? Even the time we had together between Aaron walking to parlour weren’t together because he spent the whole time on the phone to his ma and Granney, which I don’t mind, but how was I meant to know that would literally be the last proper moment we would have together (other then when it all kicked off). Aaron arrived, it was grand, the three of us just chatted, it was alright actually, even though it was meant to be our time I didn’t really care once I was one pitcher down. Got half way down the second pitcher and the boys found out the rest of the boys were drinking at the crown. Both of them had finished their drink and obviously, Aaron probably feeling like a third wheel wanted to join the others, fair enough, but so did Jord. It was soo predictable, this so called date would be rushed so he could get out and meet them boys. To be fair, I didn’t really care, if he’d just let me finish my pitcher and go back, have a cuddle and a kiss and say our goodbyes but nope, weren’t gonna happen. Obviously he couldn’t wait for me to finish my pitcher so he goes “I’m away to the toilet”. 5 mins go. Thought he was away for a shite. 10 mins go. Thought he was getting a Guinness. 15 mins go. Snapchat him, see where he’s away too. 20 mins later. I got a snapchat of Jord away. Fucking stood up and abandoned??

Id been fucking stood up. Can’t fucking believe it, boyfriend of over 18 months stood me up to go and sit in a piss smelling pub with 11 other boys talking the same shite they always do: football, college and birds. Like I couldn’t believe at first, thought he might be away getting me a surprise or something so walked back to mine.

Walked into my room and there he was, standing, packing a suitcase. What was he hoping for? That the washing was dry so he could pack his bag and leave with me still sitting at parlour? When I confronted him about it, he had the audacity to say it was because “I’d been so negative about his holiday”. Right, if he had any clue, he knows I’m the complete opposite. Yes I’ve been nagging him about making sure he eats enough because I don’t want him ruining his holiday like his night at Hatfield. Yes, I’ve been nagging about not spending much because I know he ain’t got the money for rent and all so don’t want him wasting his hard earnt money on a few pints which last a few mins when he wants to buy an Xbox which he’d prefer next year. Yes I’ve been nagging about brothels and strip clubs but let’s face it, most boys holidays always end up on strip clubs or something, I know he wouldn’t want me in it the other way around, and plus them places are so dodgey in them countries, something will end up bad. Yes I’ve been nagging about how he weren’t ready, well what was I meant to say “oh yeah go ape!”, yeah right, a few weeks ago he was breaking down regularly, and only a few nights ago he was crying about how I could do better and everyone would be better off without him. So yes obviously I’m concerned, can’t see how people aren’t seeing the same thing I’m seeing? Yes, there’s a tonne of other things I nagged about but me nagging him weren’t for my benefit, I hate nagging him, I just wanted to make sure we had some holiday boundaries and he knew what he can and can’t do. I asked him ages ago if we could have a talk about it and he said no so obviously if we had that I would’ve got it all off my chest and wouldn’t be repeating myself.

Also, he started going on about how I’ve been so negative about this holiday that he doesn’t want to go any more? He must’ve been daydreaming a lot recently because all I’ve done is so good things for this holiday. I started looking for his holiday shorts before he did. I offered to get them for him a month before he even seen them in the shop! Offered to do his laundry. Offered to go to the post office to sort out his card. Got travel adapters. Awk just other things too but can’t be bothered to list them. He started talking then about my happiness or something, not gonna quote exactly cos I can’t even remember, all I remember was screaming at him and how this has been a hard year for me too, crying myself in my sleep, in the shower, just always feeling alone, how I can’t even make the man I love happy and more. I stormed out and sat in the kitchen, thank god I left my inhaler out there, because got myself in a wee asthma attack.

Got myself together and went back into the room, he’s lying there on his God damn phone still texting them boys. I didn’t want him to leave on bad terms, if anything bad happened I wouldn’t be able to live with myself even if I done nothing wrong. Came into bed and explained myself. He didn’t really want to admit that I was in the right but I knew I was. I explained how the holiday would be good for him and he started saying how I thought he weren’t ready.

Anyway, somewhere between Jord trying to realise I was in the right and him checking on his fucking washing every two minutes (yes, even when I was in tears he was dying to leave me for pinting), I just broke down and cried. I tried explaining how everything I do, I do to help people. All I tried to do was help him with this holiday and he took it for granted and threw it in my face, just like everyone else lately.

Niamh had the cheek to fucking complain about jeans in soak lying in the sink and how I don’t respect her. There’s more then 1 fucking sink in this flat?! Don’t use that as an excuse to be an unhygienic bitch and not brush your teeth. She’s so quick to forget every thing good I’ve done, I washed and folded her clothes the other day, and the state of her knickers, I did not want to be touching them, and especially her Granney bra etc, I cleaned out the kitchen and everything, actually I’m not even going to start on Niamh because she’s just an ungrateful cow sometimes.

Lauren too, was meant to be going for drinks tonight because I haven’t seen her in so long and I want to keep her in the loop. Cut a long story short, she bailed on me to “cook her family dinner” and have a doctors appointment tomorrow. Anyway, ends up everyone’s snapchats covered in her house with a load of her mates sitting chilling.

Liam, Dylan and Steve, always tried to help them, cleaned there house for them to mess it up the next day, if they wanted anything I would give it to them, spent soo much money on cleaning supplies for that house, awk and just being there trying to chat to them when everyone else locked themselves in their rooms and now they don’t even give me the time of day.

There’s so much more but this ain’t a bitching journal

I just feel so alone sometimes. I’ve made such an effort to get to know people and try to make friends and no body takes me on. Just wanted someone so I weren’t so reliant on Jord and gave him some space, don’t like suffocating him. Anyway no matter how much I try, everyone pies me. Is it me? Like I know I’m shite to be around lately but there must be someone to give me the time of day? Thought it might be cos I’m English at the start but there’s customers in the shop who’s English and they have people?

It’s so shit because I just don’t know where I belong now? I like being here but I feel so alone and then when I escape to London I feel even more alone, between everywhere I don’t know where I belong other then the pub rn.

I’m not even going to bother talking about that Shite anyway because it’ll just get me started again.

Back to it anyway I was lying there crying and bless poor Jord he didn’t know what to do. Don’t think he realised anything was wrong really. He kept saying how I don’t need anyone because I have him. Well this week shows I do need someone because he ain’t always going to be here for me is he?

Problem is everyone over here just sticks to their school mates, no one likes change so where I have no one from school here, I’m just alone.

I can’t tell him everything either because sometimes there’s things like he just won’t understand from my perspective so I sometimes just need to chat to someone else to calm me down and talk sense into me.

Anyway I cried and cried on jords chest, I felt awful because it’s the worst timing to burst out with all this after its been building up for so long. Like last time I burst out with this was that time I had the pregnancy scare and I screamed in front of Gemma and Dylan and all how I would’ve actually loved to of been pregnant just so I would feel less alone, everyone washed it off because they probably thought I was drunk but I wasn’t even, just emotional and let things boil up. Same happened today I guess, just everything getting on top of me. Like I don’t want him to go on holiday and have to worry about me so I just feel so bad for this all to happen with this wee crying fit and that it’s going to be an awkward 10 days if he remembers me as that wreck. This morning I done my hair and make up and tan so he would remember me as half decent looking before he went, now he’s gonna remember me as some slob who can’t stop crying oh god.

Granted, I give Jord brownie points for calming me down, but all he really did was give me a kiss and a cuddle and my fag (and nicked my fag ffs). But still, he was still packing his suitcase when I hadn’t finished my wee fit, like I understand his friends were waiting on him but it was only for pints? Surely that could’ve waited until I had at least stopped crying? Like half the boys weren’t even off the 212 at that stage, there was time like, even that his flight didn’t leave for another 16 hours, plenty of time? I’m not blaming him cos I know he’s just excited for his holiday but it’s not the first time he’s left me to go somewhere for a couple of days while I’m alone crying, not even the second. That’s why I need someone else other then Jord to make me feel less alone and for me to go cry to too so it’s not left on him.

Anyway said our goodbyes and off he went, this was about half 8 ish. It weren’t until just after he left I literally realised again that he stood me up to go pinting with his friends and I really shouldn’t be crying over him if he could do that to me. But knowing me, once I start, I won’t stop crying once I’ve said something, it’s like opening the floodgates and it’s just going to keep coming till it’s all out and then I’ll be grand again. I didn’t help myself with the tele I was watching, every show had to have some kind of romantic scene with some kind of soppy music that would set me off again.

This diary so looking so bleak lately no wonder I had a mini breakdown, need something to perk me up ffs.

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