Wednesday, 16 February 2011



hrm. lately i feel very much like i'm learning about everything again.

that's to be expected given the state of my life in the last seventeen months. i've been on a road of constant change since even before Christopher and i split up. mental changes, physical changes, address changes, hair colour changes. the list of changes i've seen take place in my life is vast. sometimes i think about it and become so tired that i need to take a break from even just listing the ways my life has altered in the last year and a half... it's astronomical.

right now though. well, in the last two or three weeks; i feel very much like i really lost who i was, or more like... hrm. it's hard to describe. it's like, you know when you go to your iTunes playlist, the one you use for everything... cleaning, sleeping, driving, working out? the playlist that you (if you're like me) spent HOURS tailoring around your life... painstakingly picking out every single song that will light up your activities so you don't have to accidentally stumble across any ugly memories that you just don't want to have to deal with mid-push of the hoover or halfway through your ten-mile hike on the treadmill.

i've got one of those. my epic playlist that i had originally made back in october 2009. the playlist that i had very, VERY stringently created over a series of days. the playlist that, at the time, i created to be both uplifting, but also remind me of some of the less hideous memories i had had with my then-estranged husband. the playlist that, after i was finished compiling it, became a constant source of emotional strength for me, with songs that made me feel like a stronger woman (i still find it weird to call myself a "woman," but i guess at twenty-six i really have no choice, hey?), allowed me to be silly and slowly eased me into the fact that i was now being forced to forge a life on my own and without the boy i had been planning a forever with for nearly seven years prior, all of which could be carried around on a tiny four-square-inch ipod with ease. it's fairly magical, really, to know that i could so easily toss the very core of all my emotional everything into my pocket.

anyways, that playlist was my everything. it really helped me through a lot of dark times. it supported me and never treated me wrong. it was always there when i needed it and occasionally prodded me to feel or re-live things that i didn't, at the time, know i needed, but was very grateful for in the end. in a way, that playlist and those songs, they were ME. they defined me in all my emotional, quirky, dancy glory...

i'm aware all this sounds like the ramblings of a fucking mentalist. i get that, but i'm slowly making my way to an excellent point, i promise.

so, back to the third or fourth paragraph... i feel like i've lost myself. the reason the playlist makes sense is because the way that i feel, in a metaphor, is like my computer got some sort of horrific virus that deleted all my favourite things, including, but not limited to my playlist.

i can imagine not everyone is as neurotic as me and when they lose their playlists it doesn't ruin their lives, but for me, danie, the girl who is overly dramatic about every single tiny thing in the world, when a playlist is lost, i completely lose it. that means that i have to spend another goddamn eight or so hours individually picking out the songs that will be housed in my ipod again.

so. all of this, this losing of myself, it feels like that. like i had this amazing playlist that defined me and helped me get through my days that was very suddenly ripped from me and now, i am here today (and have been for the last several weeks) attempting to FIND that playlist again before i am forced to buckle down and create an entirely new one.

now, i know that just making a new one would be good for me. a lot of people do it and it's cleansing and healthy and blah, blah, fucking blah, but i LIKED my playlist. i LIKED my life and now that it's lost, i just really don't know what the fuck i'm doing every day.

i wake up and don't want to move, i lull around the house until i can muster enough oomph to throw some clothes on for a fag and then come in and look around the room wondering what the hell i'm doing with my life. the excitement i had for baking, crocheting and doing laundry has dulled to a low roar and the things i used to find myself doing every day are now only done when i absolutely can't stand hearing Muffin complain about it anymore (well, that's not entirely true. it's actually more dramatic than anything. i do stuff, just not every day now.)

i've mostly stopped eating and i can't sleep without the aid of a cocktail of melatonin, valium and some other off-brand sleeping medication. i go through short phases occasionally where i literally just don't care about anything. i would take my pills at night hoping that perhaps they would just stop me from having to wake in the morning, only to have them offer me more and more upsetting dreams to wake up and reel back from.

i know, that sounds horrible and ohEMgee dramatic and like a call for help. i don't want anyone to worry, which is why i haven't brought it up before now. i never actually planned-out any suicide attempts or anything, i just really, honestly don't want to have to exist anymore sometimes.

i feel like right now i'm not me. i'm just some person who is completely dependent on Muffin (which completely devastates my confidence) and who nobody wants to hire (despite the five to ten resumes i send out a day, every single day). i feel like i have few friends, a strong but very small support system that's decreasing in mass by the day and just not enough strength sometimes to do anything but sit and snuggle the dog. i don't feel like i benefit anyone's life and only exist to make Muffin annoyed and... well, that's it. my self-confidence is completely non-existent. i've not taken "face" photos in about two weeks because i can't bare the sight of it and i'm just... i don't know. i don't feel like dressing up or putting makeup on or anything.

all of this, this heavy, horrible came to a head a week or so ago when i just completely lost it with Muffin. there were tears, raised voices and a lot of honest realities expressed that worried him. since then he's tried, bless him. he's really making the effort to hold me tighter and for longer. he's really showing me that i have at least one person that loves the shit out of me and wants to see this over so i can resume normal activity.

and can i just say? all those stupid goddamn films that try to make it look like it's a fucking relief to have these little outbursts are lies. i felt worse. i felt like i had laid yet another burden on Muffin, which is why i hadn't said anything to begin with, to him or anyone. i've just kept my silence and hoped this storm would pass or something magical would happen that would pull me out of this stupid, ugly slump.

alas, no. i'm just eating less and waking up later as a result of the extra tablets i'm taking at night, leaving me sluggish and blah throughout the day.

wow, now that that depressing shite is over, i can say that i'm trying. i'm honest-to-goodness trying to make this hurt stop. if Christopher taught me anything, it's that i can't count on anyone else to make this hurt that i have less... the only person i can count on is me. the thing is, how am i meant to count on me when i just don't feel strong enough to do this? i get up and force myself to maintain a routine, i coloured my hairs, i've been putting makeup on and trying to put on a brave face, "faking it to make it" as we used to say in treatment... all of this is doing something, but i don't know what. i'm attempting to re-build that "playlist" in hopes that this new one will make the days easier and will make me slightly stronger if anything, which is all i can hope for, that i will come out of this at the other end with a thicker skin and better head on my shoulders.

we'll see.

parp. i need a fag.



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