Retro Revision: Spin on An Old Classic

I took this quiz in January, 2006. I'm taking it again 2.5 years later. Let's see the difference, the previous answers are first followed by a forward slash and my current answer.

1. name: Kat
2. single or taken: Tagle/ Completely and totally single
3. sex: Female, / and my gender is female too!
4. bday: May 10th
5. sign: Taurus, Horse
6. siblings: Older brother
7. hair colour: Brown
8. eye color: Brown
9. height: 5' / 5'1

lovers & friends
1. who are your best friends?: 123/ Pauline, Christine, Valerie
2. do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?: No/ Obviously not, as I'm single.
3. did you send this to your crush?: No/ I haven't been attracted to anyone in five years.
4. did your crush send this to you?: Nope/ See above.

fashion
1. where is your favourite place to shop: Garage, AE/ Smart Set, I guess I matured a bit
2. any tattoos or piercing: ears? / double ear piercings, soon to be tattoo

specitics
1. do you do drugs?: everyday. are you jk? i am./ everyday
2. what kind of shampoo do you use?: fructis/ herbal essences
4. what are you listening to right now?: the tv/ the sound of my keyboard
5. who is the last person that called you?: k2/ Christine
6. where do you want to get married?: church / in a park
7. how many buddies are online right now?: 16 / 22
8. what would you change about yourself?: everything. / my layer of fat, my brain chemistry, my height, my freakish low blood pressure (I'm always cold), my dry skin.

favourites
1. colour: pilurple / still pilurple (pi-lur-ple)
2. food: choklitte / uhm, definitely chocolate still!
3. boys names: adrian / adrien, matt, dex
4. girls names: aeriana / aeriana, eve, anastasia
6. animals: bunnies / bunnies, turtles, seals, otter, cats, dogs
7. sports: soccer, baseball, tennis, badminton / soccer, baseball, tennis, badminton

have you ever..
1. given anyone a bath?: yep / yes
2. smoked?: nope / yes
3. bungee jumped?: nope / nooo
4. made yourself throw up?: yes..but i was sick. / yea, I had this major stomach bug and I just wanted it out! It helped that it wanted out too, I threw up constantly for three days
5. skinny dipped?: nope / no, where would I do that?
6: ever been in love?: yeah, i suppose / yes, I love my lolo and lola and turtle and bunnies very much
7. made yourself cry to get out of trouble?: many times / once.
8. pictured your crush naked?: nope / What crush?
9. actually seen your crush naked?: nope / What crush?
10. cried when someone died?: yeah / Yes, unfortunately they were TV characters. I am lucky enough to never have had someone close to me die.
11. lied: yes / Like a lying machine!
12. fallen for your best friend?: nope / Nope, not genuinely.
13. been rejected?: ionno? kinda? / Only for part-time retail jobs.
14. rejected someone?: nope / Yes, adamently.
15. used someone?: yeah...i used her to get choklitte. from the magical elf. in toyland. / I suppose so, though I can't think of when I have...
16. done something you regret?: everything. / A miscalculation last fall, a stupid thing 2 years ago, several small things

clothes: track jacket, umm...a watchathingy...a...bath thingy?/ my sweaters, my new winter jacket, my collection of hats
music: nothing / musicals and old school stuff
make-up: nothing / touch of eyeliner and some lipstick, though most of the time I go au natural
pet peeve: lack of choklitte / improper grammar!
smell: choklitte (not kidding) / Big Bunny
desktop picture: flowers / random picture from Day Hospital
favourite artist: olp, nickelback / Julie Andrews
favourite groups: GO12 / Bear4ce1, that ones a joke!
book you are reading: handmaid's tale, oryx and crake, sixteen / another day in the frontal lobe and bloodletting again
cd in player: the killers (thanks michelle!) / Juno soundtrack
dvd in player: the one...about the boxer...the female one...who got euthanized / TEDtalks
colour of toenails: the same colour they were yesterday / natural, they were bright pink until I tripped and ripped off some of my toe skin and half my nail polish. Pau was there.

last person..
you touched: does big bunny count? / Big Bunny, if not, Regular Bunny, if not, Elephant, if not, Speedy.
im'ed: vvn / Nelson-Shortman, right now
yelled at: carlo / This scary maniken (sp?) at Sears, before Pau and Christine got there
You kissed: does big bunny count? / Big Bunny, if not, probably Speedy, if not, probably Regular Bunny

you are..
Understanding: never / I try to be always
Arrogant: always / Occasionally
Insecure: forever / All the time
Interesting: not a chance / Apparently constantly!
Random: definately / Most of the time
Smart: nope / I think I am, it's just hidden under weird brain-ness
Moody: only everyday of my life / Pathologically so, unfortunately I haven't any clue what my "real" moods are, that is, moods that are not part of an affective disorder or my medications
Organized: i can be / Extremely, again, pathologically so.
Healthy: *cough* ex-er-cise? / I live on processed foods and my exercise is the TTC, which is actually sufficient. I spend so much time on the TTC and going up stairs and walking and stuff it actually constitutes a work out.
Bored easily: yep / Lately, so bored that I become a bitch or SI.
Shy: i can be / At times I am incredibly shy, i.e. anxiety disorders. Others I am wildly confident or brave. =)
Difficult: yep / Yes, definitely.
Attractive: nope / I suppose sometimes I am.
Messy: sometimes / Occasionally, yes.
Responsible: no / Yes, very much so.
Hyper: occasionally... / There's the odd time I'll have gobs of energy.
Happy: no / No, no not at all.
Trusting: no / Barely.
Talkative: yep / Yes, when I talk I TALK.

if you could you would..
Kill: the person who made choklitte not free. / Can I kill concepts? Hate and misunderstanding.
Slap: *cough* / Sometimes my doctors and social worker, usually anyone around me.
Get really wasted with?: (*creepy voice from that movie) i'll never tell... / Shortman-Nelson.
Get high with: (*sigh) repeat creepy voice. / Shortman-Nelson, Pau, Christine, Val, Edith, Vanessa, Michelle, Karl...
Talk to offline: God. / God, yea.
Talk to online: God. can i do that? (*lightning strikes.) guess not. / God again!

In the morning: i try to forget / I'm disappointed that I've woken up again.
All I need is: choklitte / Love!
Love is: math. (read dictionary part ii, see "kopach") / According to one womans research, similar to the effects of cocaine on the brain as well as a veritable shower of dopamine.
I dream about: babies, agenda's, failure / Speedy, Bunny, ER, boats, airplanes, lots of boats, failure, abandonment, anger, loss, being chased, getting lost, neglect.

Coke or Pepsi: coke / Coke.
Flowers or candy: CAAAAAANDY / Candy of course!
Tall or short: short / Short, talking to tall people makes my neck hurt.

What do you notice first: eyelashes / Percieved approachability.
Makes you laugh the most: big bunny / Animal antics.
Makes you smile: big bunny / Big Bunny and Speedy
Sit on the Internet all night waiting for that someone special to IM you?: Sometimes. Come on Ellen DeGeneres, MSN me!
Wish you were a member of the opposite sex?: nope. / I'm quite happy in my body.
Wish you were younger: sometimes... / Not really. When I was younger I was untreated and unaware and therefore more scared and powerless and sad, now I'm all those things but I have the power that four years of treatment has given me.
Cried because someone said something to you?: yes

I know: i like juice. and cheese. / A lot about psychiatry, some about anatomy and physiology, a little more about genetics, even more about cytology, and a lot of random facts but not as much as Eve.
I want: to forget. / to get better, to be happy, to be functional most of the time.
I have: no more cheese or choklitte. (*eyes brother's stash.) / $500 worth of medication and a priceless amount of human experience. Amex, even Ellen uses it. That's all serious, minus the amex bit.
I wish: i could fly. / I could do all the things in my previous post, right now.
I hate: many things. / People who chew with their mouths open, people who eat nuts on the bus, people who are rude, people who get up in my personal space, people who discount me because of my mental issues, but all of these are really more like dislikes. I really, really hate being bored.
I hear: my brother...(*decides not to eat choklitte) / Myself chewing chocolate...really, I do.
I search: endlessly / For god, for knowledge, for hiding places and secret spaces, I search for reasons and the beyond.
I regret: my life / My inability to speak at times when voice is vital.
I love: choklitte / Lola, Lolo, Tito Joe, Big Bunny, Regular Bunny, Elephant, Speedy, Guyzeeland, Alexandria, Carlo, Christine, Ella, Jake, Jessica, Joshua, Logan, Nathan, Nayah, RJ, Tristan, Pau, Christine, Shortman-Nelson, Valerie, Vanessa, Michelle, etc...

more randomness
1. Do you like fillings these out? not when they're this long... / It's nice now that I can see the differences.
2. How many people are you sending this to? the blogger world? / The blog and facebook world, probably tag some people I've mentioned.
3. Who will send it back? those who have no time to waste yet insist on doing it. (like me!) / Ditto 2006 answer.
4. Gold or silver: silver / Silver, gold just kinda washes out on not-white/black people.
5. Favourite cartoon/anime: i forgot... / Strawberry Panic Strawberry Panic EEEE!!!
6. What did you have for breakfast this morning: break-fast? / Milk chocolate covered mini-oreos and diet coke from the bottle. I haven't left my room yet.
7. Who would you love being locked in a room with: a maminal. / Julie Andrews or Ellen DeGeneres or Sarah Warn or a nice female doctor who can teach me stuff.
8. Could you live without your computer: (*laughs) no! (*eyes widen.) / God no. When my laptop was broken I did kinda, because I hate using the family computer, but no. My laptop cuts through a lot of the OCD stuff that bugs me and it has Sims2 on it.
9. Would you colour your hair: yea / I have, several times, all the same colour.
10. Could you ever get off the computer: umm....yea? / I'm not ON a computer, I'm using one. So yes, of course!
11. habla espanol?: me no habla espanol. que? / I can read it mostly!
12. how many people are on your buddy list?: way more than i can keep track of. / 74, I did a paring down to just people I'd imagine I'd talk to.
13. drink alcohol? i wish. no i can't take it, i'm lying. it tastes ICKY. / Yes.
14. like watching sunrises or sunsets?: sunsets...then you know it's over, for the day. / Yes.
15. what hurts the most?: when you open the cookie/cheese jar...and it's empty. *tear. / Being ignored.
16. best words ever?: foff. / Stick, splint, free, believe, advocate.
17. what now?: I'm going to get dressed, there's a major sale at the Big Al's on Kennedy. Looks like Speedy is gettin some new shit!

If I had 999 trillion dollars...(and a magic wand)

If I had nine-hundred-ninety-nine-trillion dollars!

I would overhaul the health care system.

I would implement a system for foreign-trained health professionals, where they would take a test to maintain a standard level and then a month(plus) course to update them on practises in Canada. i.e. What is called a bovary here is called an electric cauterizer in England. Everyone gets a "rapid residency" of one year in their specialty.

I would entice those foreign-trained doctos to practise family medicine so that the people of Ontario will no longer have to resort to the ER for treatment, thus relieving some of the stresses on ER's and providing constant care rather than pockets of ER visits where no one knows your history.

I would make all health-care professions a continous learning process where people like doctors and CYW's and everything go to inservices to update their knowledge, say every 5-10 years.

I would get all the hospitals and clinics and stuff to budget smartly for the next 10 years. The government will use some of that surplus we used to have to cover deficits and provide a capital for a pseudo-reincarnation of the system. Cut costs and be exact with the number books, all the way down to small things like free-for-all plastic utensils in the caf- which should be recyclable by the way.

I would set up an electronic records system. Gone are the days of seeing one doctor, then trying to remember it all for another doctor who will have to confirm it with the previous doctor anyways. Since I'm obsessive-compulsive I'll take care of how to organize the information, the rest of y'all work on how to keep it confidential and crash proof. Of course, technology isn't perfect so hard copies, (printed on recycled paper) will still be mandatory.

I would make the TTC not suck.

I would expand the subway system for sure. Gone are the days of taking a subway, LRT, and bus just to get far enough East to get to the hospital. Gone are the days of faulty signal lights and fires on the tracks, gone are the days of taking a bus where there should be a subway line. Ever wonder why that little purple line has so few travelers? Because it doesn't go anywhere!

I would make a deal with an eco-friendly cleaning company to scrub down TTC vehicles every once in a while. Litter, lights, and dirt build-up are all important. Of course I would print a TTC ettiquette mini-book that is available in .pdf and .jpg, as well as when you get a Metropass or stack of tickets/tokens. It will be folded to eliminate the need for staples and be re-usable. I would expand the number of "put your used newspaper here" stacks.

I would try to work out a deal with the GTA transit systems so we can have an all-access pass system instead of this extra-ticket here with a VIVA there and a GO bus there crap. I'd also outlaw eating nuts on the TTC. I'm itchy enough, come on! I would try to make public transit preferred over cars.

I would make every school an alternative school.

I would change the way students are taught. The last time I was in a traditional school was in elementary school, but I know it's not working. The TA system works, I like that. You have a teacher with a small group of students whose overall wellbeing is looked after. I would hire only teachers who like to teach. 1-2 PA Day's a year I would create programming to incite passion in teachers who are dissatisfied. If they want to get out of teaching, there are several government programs already in place, (not in my imagination!) to get them started on a second career. An unhappy teacher is a whole pile of unhappy students.

I would swap out this pre-requisite thing. If I want to go to Medical School, this is the most straightforward path:
I would take my MCAT's after studying life sciences as my undergrad. To study life sciences, I need university-preparation sciences and maths as a senior in high school. To take university-prep sciences and maths I need to take academic streamed sciences and maths as a junior in high school. To take those academic streamed courses I need to thrive in elementary school so I have a good foundation.

I would change the hostile environment of schools. If a student who is having a hard time comes up to you and asks for help, don't be snarky. If a student walks into a guidance office to say, get help deciding if their current course load is too heavy or not, don't tell them what they can't do, tell them what they CAN. Don't make things harder for students on purpose, that's just stupid and discouraging to them, which is the opposite of what teachers are supposed to do! This means university too!

I would... get really tired and go to bed.

Stuff I don't have the energy for right now...
- affordable daycare
- a cool car for shortman
- a whole lot of real estate for me
- sustainable economy
- make all garbage boxes the small sized bins
- expand kitchen waste to apartment buildings and etc.
- create a "minimum benefits" package, where the least a company can do for even a minimum wage employee is offer a drug plan
- study geriatrics, adolescent medicine, AND psychiatry
- find someone who will fix Big Bunny
- buy a lot of Pilot G4 pens and so-en panties
- make elective surgeries partly covered by OHIP unless it's purely cosmetic, i.e. lip botox is not covered but wisdom teeth extraction is partially covered
- make the gay village everywhere
- block all members of the westborough baptist church from entering Canada
- clean up Lake Ontario and the Mary Ward pond
- screw the tobacco companies and CFC giants, no smoking and we're keeping the ozone layer!
- more public spaces with stuff, like places to knit and place instruments and punch stuff
- go to TED
- redesign my m&m phone so it's more comfortable to hold
- have my entire houses CLEANED
- buy shoes and handbags and clothes and candy
- make an actual Guyzeeland
- make Speedy a wonderworld with a giant tank and an exciting room to explore
- get a good haircut
- have pets
- get a post-shower dryer where you just stand there and *whew* you're dry and moisturized

I'm Not Going To School

Here is a flowchart, important segments in bold:
Two Assignments > Three Weeks > Boredom > Bitchiness > SI > Excessive Bleeding > Mess > Uncomfortable Conversations

• I'm not going to school. Why? BECAUSE I HATE IT.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because I'M BORED.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because I have grade nine math skills and am taking MCR3U.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because I've been working on this assignment for three weeks and it's been done for just as long.
  
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because with great boredom comes great bitchiness.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because I hate it when people touch me.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because I don't fit it.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because bleeding is a great way to cut through the boredom, which leads to the bitch.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because as much as I like bleeding, I don't feel like taping layers of gauze to my wrists and sitting through the whole day like that.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because the school is dirty and I don't have enough PRN's to go everyday.
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because PRN's aren't meant for everyday anyway!
  
• I'm not going to school. Why? Because I'd rather stay home and deal with my mother than spend the day THERE.

What Would (Imaginary) Larry Say?

WELL YOU KNOW WHAT I'D SAY TO THAT, JUST GET IT DONE. JUST GET YOUR FUCKIN' DIPLOMA AND GET TO UNIVERSITY, YOU'LL LOVE IT THERE.
High school is about more than an OSSD imaginary Larry, it's about growing up and being social and finding a niche. Anyways, fat lot of good that advice is, it's at least 1.5 years before I get to university! So I'm not about to spend 1.5 years going to a place I hate for six hours a day. What makes you so sure university is going to be my big break huh? Everyone thought Triangle School would be great, "Oh Kat, you'll be starting a new school and your academics will change..." "Kat at least you won't be a Ward" "Kat it's a school full of people like you!"

SO YOU'RE A BITCH.
What?! What?! That's not helpful! That's not even a question! Ugh. And yes, it matters if I'm a bitch! I don't want to be cruel to other people, especially not to their faces! I'll be to cruel to them in the privacy of my diary!

SEE AGAIN, I THINK YOU FEEL TOO MUCH OF A NEED TO PLEASE PEOPLE.
Oh my god, is this the exact same session as last week? Who knows!? There's a difference between needing to please people and not wanting to be cruel.

HOW C-
Yes! I'm small! HAHAHA. Small people have full sized emotions! Just because I'm a lovely young woman here doesn't mean I'm incapable of being a bitch! Are you going to keep asking me stupid questions or actually help me out with this?

I DON'T THINK YOU'RE BEING A BITCH.
How do you know? Were you there? Are you social worker to some of the people whose feelings I hurt? Are you actually a skinny black woman who was guest teaching the class? If you were, did you not notice the way I made faces and slammed my skull into the desk whenever you introduced a new activity?

SO WHAT?
Can you ignore what I'm saying even more? Is that possible? Being a bitch generally doesn't mean being nice to other people! And it's not a great feeling either! God, I was so mad-

"GOD" NOW HUH? HAHAAAA-
Shuttup.

SEE NOW YOU'RE BEING A BITCH.
Very funny imaginary Larry. What were we talking about?

YOU WERE SO MAD.
Stop laughing. Stop!

I CAN'T IMAGINE YOU MAD. YOU'RE FEISTY THIS SESSION.
Feisty? What, because I'm a small asian woman I don't get mad I'm just feisty? Do I have spunk? Ugh. I was mad, I was really mad for no reason! I was incredibly bored and then incredibly angry and I took it out on other people and that doesn't feel good.

YOU DON'T NEED TO FEEL GOOD ALL THE TIME.
I didn't say all the time, I said I didn't feel good at that moment. Do normies feel good when they take out their anger on other people?

YOU'RE NORMAL.
Uh huh, that's why I'm here talking to you.

YOU ARE NORMAL, THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT, I DON'T WANT YOU TO BECOME A PROFESSIONAL PATIENT.
I'm not becoming a professional patient, I'm becoming a professional. Difference, hello? If I was becoming a professional patient, I would have new symptoms everyday. But I don't. I read about new symptoms almost everyday, but you don't see me thinking I have DID or a pneumothorax or leukemia when there are people arguing in my head or I have trouble breathing or a collection of bruises for no reason.

...wow that pretend session really pissed me off. Anyway, that's what I'm Not Going To School.

Things I'm Grateful For

Yes, I'm actually doing this. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, so I might as well write it down.

1. Big Bunny
2. Speedy
3. Lolo
4. Lola
5. Pauline
6. Christine
7. Nelson
8. Valerie
9. Vanessa
10. Michelle S.
    
11. Never having to shave my legs
12. Only getting my period every three months (even though I know that will backfire on me later)
13. Having a slight natural curl in my hair
14. My supersonic metabolism
15. Slender fingers, even though I have to get all my rings custom sized
16. Coupons
17. Sales
    
18. Sales where you get a discount off last ticketed price
19. Juice from concentrate
20. My job
21. Living in Canada
    

Signs The TTC Wishes They Had

"CHEW WITH YOUR MOUTH CLOSED"

"ON YOUR CELL? SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"KEEP YOUR BODY AND YOUR SHIT TO YOUR OWN SEAT"

"BUTT THE LINE AND DIE"

"YOU WANNA TURN YOUR MUSIC DOWN LOSER?"

"BLOCK THE DOORS AND YOU CAN GET THE FUCK OFF THIS VEHICLE"

"NO, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR LIFE STORY"

"UNWARRENTED FLIRTING IS FORBIDDEN UNDER TTC BYLAW 1: JACKASS PROHIBITION"

More to come!

My Lola and Lolo 'n Me

This is my Lola.


This is my Lolo.


This is me.


We three have 18 years of history. There are so many things I'll never forget, like Lola's magical roll of umbrella stickers. There were so many umbrella stickers it was like a sticker wonderland. I remember them exactly, tiny umbrellas with a rainbow design and an iridescent layer on top.

Soon after I saw the Forgetful Allergist, I checked the back of a CRUNCH bar and declared I couldn't eat it anymore, because it is Made on Equipment That Also Processes Peanuts/Nuts. Today I ate the first CRUNCH bar I've had in years, and boy I miss when chocolate bars had two wrappers. I forgot to try to eat around the letters though.

Lolo and I used to play so many games. I of course preferred Ice Cream land or whatever, because I really, really like ice cream. But Lolo liked to put together puzzles on top of giant pieces of cardboard we'd slide under the couch for safekeeping. We also played Wheel of Fortune, because to this day they still watch Wheel of Fortune followed by Jeopardy every weekday. (Channel 8, 7-8pm.) Man I suck at Wheel of Fortune, but Lola always figures it out first! And then we all gripe about how stupid the categories are. "Thing," honestly. That was one of them, the category was thing at the word was Honesty. Okay it's a THING, but it's not a tangible THING. God.

Once not long after they moved to the Moorehouse House Lola gave me this magnicent Polly Pocket mansion. I still play with it, even though I'm 18 and they don't even make Polly Pocket's the size anymore. They're not POCKETsized, they're like purse sized Polly's. And their names aren't even Polly. Anyways, it's on my shelf.

I remember when they lived in the Blue House, everytime Lolo and I got in the elevator he would tell everyone that I was his granddaughter and really smart. And when we used to go to the factory, all the Filipino ladies would look over and go, "TINAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" and start gabbering away about how tall I was (lies), how pretty I was (truth!), how cool it was that I used to hang out at the factory...(kinda). I liked walking down to the "river" which was really a useless sewer drain that was dry half the time. And climbing up into the boxes and ditching my shoes somewhere and running away or poking at the giant fish tank. Lolo used to take me into the secret room where he mixed the secret recipe, and we'd both put on a lab coat and I'd adjust my hairnet, which was always falling out of place, and I'd hop up onto the chair and point at everything and ask a million questions. Or he'd go into the walk-in freezer to get/put in stuff, and I'd stand at the door faithfully because I was terrified he'd get stuck inside.

OH MY GOSH! At The House, the laundry/bathroom/pantry/darkroom is in the basement right? I used to tiptoe very carefully downstairs and yell BOO! behind Lola and she'd jump and swear in Tagalog and I would giggle for like, half an hour. Then while she was doing the laundry I would slip in between the wall and the water tank and poke around the pantry, staring at the wonders of diced/sliced/crushed pineapple and jars of nails.

And every night I slept over at The House, (last time was in early August this year) I'd listen very carefully through the wall to hear Lolo's snoring and Lola's litany/rosary, then sneak downstairs for more lemonade.

There's a lot more, but I want to go downstairs now. Bye!

Obsessions

I don't usually wash, check, or count away my obsessions. The exceptions would be washing after being on a damp bus, and counting house numbers. (The goal is to count faster than you see the houses, so 1-3-5-7-9-11-13-15-17-19-21... as fast as you can- but only fast enough to stay one house ahead.) I usually spell them away. R-e-d c-a-r-s c-o-s-t m-o-r-e i-n-s-u-r-a-n-c-e i-c-e c-r-e-a-m p-o-p-s-i-c-l-e-s p-u-r-c-h-a-s-e...

There are some thoughts that just won't go away.

What do I do with them? How do I make them stop when everything is parallel and perfectly spelled and they won't cease fire. They're bad, bad things to think.

speed poetry

how can i resist/ the hope you offer me/ barest of wishes/ slightest of touch/ i place my life in it's hands/ so precarious.

you speak/ i hear not a sound/ i see nothing/ feathers from the sky/ am i/ sirens/ your voice/ bring me back/ i don't want to be/ grounded

i sing/ lullabies and secret cries/ for angels to listen/ but never hear

denied three times/ shadows at my door/ fear, loathing, other/ by the time the cock crows/ thrice

candy cane pants/ memories i haven't lost


It's been a long time (read: years) since I even tried to write anything remotely poetic, mostly it's just an endless stream of thoughts, but I like this. The essentials. Just what I thought of in the two minutes between 12:40am and 12:42am. Good night/morning.

I'm scared of Triangle Program

In three weeks, I'll be starting at a new school an hour away from my house. I'm so terrified! Christine asked me if I had any leftover unit guides, and of course I did, and of course I caught glimpses of them.

I still cringe when I look at ENG3U units.

What if Triangle is the same as Ward? What if it's the same units? The kind of work I could stare at for hours, months, and get absolutely nowhere with. Please don't make me do English, I hate English. I read, write, and speak English perfectly! I have an extensive vocabulary and can write well, please let me off the hook! I can't stand anymore English, God, even the teachers are bored with it!

What if I'm not queer enough? I'm not a vegetarian, I'm not anywhere close to vegan, I don't eat organic or even healthy. 70% of my lunches during Day Hospital were pizza. I don't believe in all-natural healing, I take three pills a day! I don't fit stereotypes or labels! I am comfortable with sex but not with having it! I am sex-positive for other people but not myself!

Why are all the staff there male? What if I start to trust people there? What if I can't, not even a little bit and everyone thinks I'm cold? I can't take the TTC there, I hate the TTC when it's damp! It's ALWAYS damp in the winter! I need dry warmth! Like Speedy, who by the way is a girl!

What if I zoom down again and everything is dark and I can't stand going?

AND YOU! SHUTTUP! I'M TOO TIRED FOR CBT!!!

Things I Learned

PROVEN - Most hospital food is play-doh in disguise. Other secret identities are: paperweights, doorstops, and leather. Some or most hospital food has been pre-chewed and/or not chewable.
EXAMPLES
Pancakes, French Toast, Toast, Tea Biscuit, Dill Salmon, Cream of Wheat, Oatmeal - Play Doh
Tea Biscuit - Paperweight, Doorstop
Beef strips, chicken of any kind, turkey of any kind - Leather, Unchewable
Eggs - Pre chewed

PROVEN - Most hospital food is recycled.
EXAMPLES
Minestrone Soup is Vegetable Soup with pasta shells
Oatmeal is Cream of Wheat with brown food colouring
Beef Strips is Chicken Strips with the same sauce.
Tea Biscuit is French Toast/Toast/Pancakes but fatter
French Toast/Toast/Pancakes are Tea Biscuits but thinner.

He was Right

PTDHSW was right. It is a useful coping mechanism. Hah. Can you feel it? Can you feel your eyes unfocus and your head kind of...float away? It woud have been pleasant if it wasn't so annoying.

Lesbian Faire

Oh my god. Why haven't I been watching this before? Oh, it's so fabulous!

http://www.afterellen.com/blog/karmankregloe/wgn-video-blog-lword-1-lets-do-it

two sides to this story

“You know, there’s the North York- I mean, Scarborough mobile crisis team.”

I know.

“How close do you get to jumping off a ten storey building?”

Too close.

“It’s too early to know.”

Four years too late.

Help Me

Fuck Off

What if I want a future? What if I want a wife who will steal my pager while I’m in the shower and tell people to “leave her the fuck alone”? I want someone to hold onto when my meds make me vomit. I want to freak out and rush my kid to the emergency room to find out it’s a simple ear infection. There is so much I know I can do! I could be great at being a doctor, a mother, a wife. I love to memorize all the pieces of a body that work together, to explore the intricacies of life and find out how/why things go wrong. I’m good at that. What if instead of dying what I really want is to bypass all of this and get it right?

What if I don’t see a future? What if all I can find in mine is an older version of me, pissed at my parents and trying to become content with unhappiness? I see twelve more medications and four more years of treatment, alternating between completely lost and completely functional. There is so much I can’t reach. I can’t get to my thoughts anymore; they’re somewhere just beyond my fingertips. It’s there, somewhere, frustratingly close and just as impossible. What if I can’t ever get it back?

angry

In the past couple of months I've slept without my meds a handful of times. There were a few nights I was on melatonin, and a few more where I was so exhausted I didn't need them. It freaks me out that I can't sleep without them anymore.

It scares me that during that time I wasn't on my meds I was a fucking wreck. I can't believe that I ever was that anxious all the time, it's like some kind of nightmare. Which by the way, I am chock full of. Every night I dream horrible scenes that go in circles.

Every night, and every afternoon because although I can't sleep in my bed I sleep soundly on the bus.

It feels like forever.

repeat: Reality (loop)

I did find a lot of old stuff, but it's a little too intense for right now, so I put it away for later.

I am amused by my parents when they try to be involved in my life. I got my report card from Day Hospital and my dad is standing there waiting to see it, so I said "Bye." Instead of leaving he said, "I want to see it, I'm still paying taxes for that." Bully for you, but I pay taxes too! Sure, it's next to nothing, but when you earn a couple thou a year the government isn't expecting too much.

Is it too much to laugh at my family when they try to figure out what's going on with me? I figure that they forfeited their stake in my life a couple years ago, but as I haven't said that to them I think they're confused. No wait, that's funny too.

I think I should explain, but whenever I talk about something like that they seem to speak a different language. Anyways, I don't feel like adding to the tension in this house.

I should stop stalling and actually do shit...

Retro: October 23rd, 2007

I found this one while going through my First Aid box.

------

Dear Journal,
I could cry. It was a really great retreat until now. We're having mass now and I'm sitting at the back. The other teachers kind of just stared and moved on, but Ireland challenged me. I know I go to a Catholic school and as such I'm expected to participate in masses in liturgies. I was fine in explaining that I don't do Catholic mass, that I'm United*, but past that is private and personal. Please do not violate my limits.

She wanted to know why I couldn't just listen. And I sold my reasons are personal. Now I know, even considering that I had ZERO training at Griffin that you stop there. It is difficult enough to verbalize your need for the other person to stop.

Then she said, "you're just listening, I don't see how that can be offensive." Arms crossed, effectively stopping communication, while at the same time daring me to argue back. I just shook my head. I know enough not to argue. We are both passionate about our positions. She shook her head and walked away.

I don't want to always justify my beliefs, my faith. Mom always bothers me about it. Fighting.

Why can't I worship in my own way? The fact that the Church feels it can take away the most sacred sacrament is folly to me. Mass, to me is a guilt trip, a "privilage" that the Church uses as a weapon. That's not faith, that's blackmail. Other people may find solace in the mass. I don't. I feel the beaurocratic element of the Church leaves "unwhole" people out. Women, non-Catholics, people will mental illness, queers, and for a time, people of colour and the uneducated.

There are my beliefs. (Peace of Christ!)

Til Then,
Kat

*I identified as part of the United Church of Canada at that point.

-------

HAHAHA I ESCAPED YOU, YOU GODDAMN FUCKING ASSHOLES!!! I'm going to look for some more stuff.

Not the Hospital

I'm so sad.

I'm not ready to navigate the murky waters of the mental health system. I don't want to sort out all the questions and miconceptions. I just want some goddamn help.

That's a pipedream if I ever heard one, so here goes:

YES, I am going to have some seperation issues about the end of Day Hospital.
NO, this depression is not a result of seperation issues.
HEY! I need to tell you people that I need help getting through to the tough stuff and the stuff I get through to on my own needs to be addressed instead of charted and poked away until the next appointment.

I don't know...I don't feel like fighting my way through to any actual help. It's hard enough just asking for it.

Where am I?

I feel lost again. Adrift.

Today PTDHSW, (I refuse to use names for short-term workers outside of treatment!) took me to check out the Triangle Program. I was really scared, so when I got to the station where I was supposed to meet him I sat down and started writing non-stop.

Writing does you no good when all you write is, "So so scared. Breathe. Why Scared? AUGH!"

Yes, I love to talk. I never bought into the secret-keeping thing that is inherent with my culture. Okay, so I lied to my doctor for the first year I was in treatment. I wasn't desperate enough to spill my suicidality to her! But once I hit rock bottom I sang like a canary and I haven't stopped. There are exceptions to my open nature. I don't like phones. Often I don't have the energy to breathe, let alone speak, and I always stutter more on the phone. I don't like strangers either.

So when PTDHSW said something like, "you do the talking and I'll jump in" he was surprised that I said, "NO! I don't like talking!!!" I'm a regular chatterbug in Day Hospital. That was okay though because he did just the right amount of talking, and I managed to resist clutching his sleeve in terror. Hooray for me...

He walked in. I scuttled. They told us about the program, emphasized on the self-directed piece which is obviously not new to me. I don't know...I missed a lot of it because I was trying very hard to stay there, firmly on the ground.

They kept talking about my credit counselling summary, how my grades are good and stuff and it felt like such a lie. I get good grades but I don't finish anything and then I ended up saying that and getting all mixed up... "I get good grades but I spend a lot of time staring at my books...and then I found out it wasn't staring and it was like hours textbooks time."

Thank God PTDHSW jumped in, but then I almost floated away just thinking about how floaty I was already and how awkward it would be to dissociate where people would notice, (as opposed to at Ward or at home) and have to get me to return to some semblance of consciousness.

That was kind of a shocker. I know I get lots of attention from workers, but to think of someone else actually noticing that I was in a different world... it's just weird.

To Remember: Meerkats are so tall and their heads are so small, it's like they're slinkys on the inside. I love slinkys, but not inside animals! Except if it's a weiner dog. Then it's okay.

Days of the Week

She wrote semi-legibly!

Since I started high school, Tuesdays and Thursdays have always been busy for me. First it was because my doctor only comes in to the hospital on Tuesdays, then it was because play rehearsal was always, always on a Thursday. It's a little different now, I spend my Thursdays at the Shoniker Clinic for Group.

I start Day Hospital on Monday. I am so scared...not of the program itself, but of where my life is going. Five days a week at Shoniker, one night, and two days where I go through the tunnel to see Dr. Gerstein and Larry-the-Social-Worker. But naturally, it had to start on a Saturday.

Saturday, when every possible clinic I could go to is closed. God, I hate this! The tidal wave falls and I go back to being a stone. I'd rather be a rock all the time! I would rather feel nauseous, empty, sad, and so exhausted than have these good periods. Because they taunt me! It's like the Evil is dangling this on a stick, "Here Kat! Here! Have a taste of how nice it is to experience different emotions- including happiness!" only to yank it away again. I get hope, and hope...it just hurts to have.

Being this sad is physical. It's a pain that works its way through my bones and my muscles. My legs won't relax until I've taken a CNS depressant. Mostly though...my body is just tired. Exhausted. I'll wake up in the morning or afternoon, and in half an hour I'm spent. Zero energy left.

Why does it keep coming back? Of all the other things, the anxiety, the obsessions and compulsions, the panic attacks, why is THIS the one thing that keeps haunting me? All the days of the week, it's there.

Two weeks until my debut...I know, more than a DAY is a lot to ask of the Evil, but I can't be depressed at my coming of age. What will I do when it's time to dance? When I have to present a speech? I don't have the energy to breathe, let alone dance and speak. I hate this so much.

i emerge with...the giant pills of doom! people were staring at me on the bus. yes, i cut my nails, geez.

The Fourth

My sweater is soaked in blood from the fourth nosebleed I've had today...it was only supposed to be absorbing tears. I don't see how going from 200mg to 100mg of sertraline can create such a difference in me...I woke up completely manic, an hour later I crashed, then my mom came in to tell me that I have an appointment with another specialist and I burst into tears. I can't handle this! There is blood on my sheets and blood on the floor, and this time I didn't cause it.

I am so, so sick of all these doctors. I am sick of telling myself that at least I'm getting help and I've got OHIP...I HATE going to all of them. Why can't they just leave me alone?! Why can't I just be normal!?!??! I don't want to see more social workers, more intake workers, psychiatrists and psychologists, hematologists, orthopedic surgeons, child and youth workers... I want to see my family doctor once a year for a check-up and never see them otherwise!

I am sick of Filipino lab tech's asking about the scars on my arms and telling me that I'm ashamed of my culture as they attach ECG cables, sick of them telling me that they need to use a baby needle because my veins are too small...I AM SICK OF BEING SICK. AGAIN.

I don't want to try new drugs and go for more intensive treatment! I don't want to do this! I hate having sixteen different charts and a million people writing in them. WHEN DOES IT ALL STOP!?

LOOK AT ME. JUST LOOK! Do I look like someone who is ready for another drug class and going to the hospital every day?! MORRISON LOOK AT ME! DON'T YOU GET A GUILTY CONSCIENCE FROM CONTINUING TO RUIN MY LIFE?!!? DON'T YOU FEEL BAD FOR ATTACKING ME WHEN I'M VULNERABLE?!?!!?

I just want it all to stop.

This Isn't Me...It can't, can't CAN'T be me

Yesterday I doubled my trazodone dose to 100mg at bedtime.
This morning I halved my sertraline dose to 100mg once daily.
In two weeks I'll start taking duloxetine, an SSNRI.
Sometime soon I'm going to see an intake worker for the Day Hospital at Shoniker.

I'm still trying to figure out how all this happened, how it got so far. Part of me still thinks that this isn't that bad, that I go to the hospital a little bit more than I need to. I know, (through Group) that this is me taking on the beliefs of people around me who say that affective disorders aren't that horrible. But now... now that I've exhausted SSRI's and going on to harder meds, now that I'm going to be under psychiatric supervision from 9-3 however long I'm at Day Treatment, it scares me so much.

Worse than that is realizing my support system has shrunk dramatically, and that suddenly I'm afraid to trust people-face-to-face with my secrets.

Boundaries huh? Ms Morrison, you're telling me that I'm overstepping boundaries by trying to find support from staff and yet you're the one who shared my medical history without my permission? Do you know that even my social workers and doctors ask for permission before talking to anyone else? Including other health professionals?

Ms Morrison, do you even remember that after you told my parents about me you did not provide any kind of support at all? Do you remember that I told you ASK me if it's alright to talk to other people about my status? Do you remember all those times you tried to help my friends and lost interest after a week or two? Ms, you got them to believe that you were going to help them but you ended up doing absolutely nothing. I dislike you.

My Favourite Place to Be

Is it weird that my favourite place to be is on the 12th floor of the hospital?

This picture is from Wednesday, February 20th 2008. I was happy, so happy when I came in that we took a picture, so I could remember it for later. This is Room 3, in the Galaxy 12 Child and Adolescent Clinic, on the 12th level of Centenary Hospital. This is my safe place.

I have been visiting that room for nearly four years now. I have counted all the stars on the wall, climbed onto the window ledge when no one was looking, climbed onto the window ledge during sessions, cried on that couch, came out to my workers, was examined before being admitted to hospital, lost hope in my parents... I know that about 45cm from the floor there is a crack on the left side of the door, there's a dent in the tile third from the north wall, and the third star on the west wall is fading away.

In that room I am free to be and say what I need to without censoring myself or adjusting the story. It is the only place I can be strong and lost and vulnerable and powerful and people will not think less of me. So, for 30 minutes to an hour and a half a week I have somewhere I can be.

Maybe it's not so weird.

The Latest Dress

I'll update this with a picture of my practice version.

I'm making a new dress! I love off-the-shoulder dresses, but I'm not quite sure if I can pull it off.

It all started Friday, the PA Day. I was going to go downtown, look at dresses, grab a copy of The Advocate. But then I stuck my hand out the front door and decided I didn't want to be an icicle. I saw this amazing dress, really simple lines, and I decided I wanted to try to make it.

I started drawing it out and sketching out how the pattern might work. But it was way too complicated to figure out on paper, so I made a dress form. You know duct tape dress forms? You put on an old shirt and wrap yourself in tape, then cut it off and stuff it? It was a lot less painful than I thought, although it was hard to keep from squishing my breasts down. (Thus ruining the shape AND making it really hard to breathe.) That helped a lot, because I could just pin, re-pin, and cut to make out the pattern. I even practiced doing darts! I'm really excited about this dress, I just need fabric.

How will they ever stop us?

I'm talking to Val right now about this, and I still don't know the answer.

------------

Kids do a lot of harm to themselves. We smoke, and cut, and binge, and purge, and diet, and try to end our lives.

And sometimes, when I'm looking around at the other teens assembled on the 12th floor of Centenary Hospital, I wonder how the doctors will ever stop us. We who are so determined to destroy our bodies and our lives, who think this is the only way we can be okay.

This is it! Nothing makes me feel as good as this! You will never take this away from me! And parts of us know that we are doing things that make us outcasts and lunatics, but that isn't worth being fat, or sad, or sober.

What do we gain from this, our slow raze to stay alive? Waging war on the demons that haunt us by finishing their work ourselves? They will never stop us, because as long as we need to be dodging our secrets, we will keep up creating our own to stave them away.

My God This Site Is Awesome

You guys are awesome. Well, some of you. The rest of you suck.

Really? Because in about 10 years, I'm going to need some genetically-perfect sperm. People with mental illness or shortness need not apply.


God, I'm such a virgin. And that sexual side effect sucks. Even if I'm like, a nun.


Yea, I walked around with my shirt tied up like it was the 90's and I had abs.

I hope no one finds this offensive. Oh, what the hell, they're ALL offensive. Does anyone else wish there was a Gr 12 World Religions course?

Yea, it sucks that kilts aren't that absorbent or they wouldn't be quite so sweaty.

I chose this just because it's so funny. Like, "You made me screwed up so now I'm in therapy!" It's funny! It is!

This is definitely me.


I wouldn't, actually. Klonopin feels like a TRUCK hitting you in the chest.


This is for all you people who wonder why I wake up early just to shine a fucking light in my eyes.

I Guess it Goes Both Ways

I am so, so hating Zoloft. Has anyone else thrown up 3 times in the last 40 minutes? Anyone? I know no one reads this so you know I'm asking you God! Hey, God! HAVE YOU THROWN UP THREE TIMES IN THE LAST...okay, fine, i get it. Sometimes it is so annoying talking to an all-knowing being.

I'm pretty sure this throwing up is different from anxiety-throwing-up, because other than feeling like a sasquatch I've had an okay day. I can't even fit into my sweat pants. I did also realize that once again I'm too tense to write, because every time my ink skips my muscles clench. Or my bones, it feels like my bones are clenching. (Shut up, I know that isn't physiologically possible.)

Anyways, as much as I really really hate this drug, I am losing weight. Kind of. On November 27th I weighed 94 pounds. After Christmas I weighed 115, now I weight 100, and since I'm throwing up again I'll probably lose some more weight. Which makes me feel like less of a sasquatch. More of a...water buffalo.

Not that I'm actively trying to lose weight, I just told Pau that she and Christine could come over tomorrow and we'd get a large pizza and I'd eat 3/4 of it. And I would, totally I would. Which isn't something to be proud of, because I fucking binge a lot. I have the worst eating habits of anyone I know. I'm trying to change! Slowly.

What I'm really trying to say is, I'm scared of a lot of things but I can't write them down so I'm typing out a very sarcastic blog.

Subtleties of Loving Me

Everyday I understand things a little bit better. I can see all the tiny nuances in the things that you say, the way you don't even have to justify all the words and promises you make to me. Today I learned then when you say, "I love you" it doesn't also mean, "I will be there for you." I learned that you have your limits, and though they fall much too short for me it is not a choice that you have made.

Today I learned that even knowing that, I can't bring myself to forgive you.

All I Want From You

A Letter.

All I want from you is something I know you can't give me. And every time you give me hope it's almost cruel, because I believe - even for a just a second - that maybe you will change and understand me, and this.

I can't do that.

I can't let myself think that things could be okay because soon enough you turn around and it hurts that much more when you reaffirm that I can never rely on you. You are genuine, you really and truly believe that you are doing everything right, supporting me in every way. You are trying not to lose me, which I can hardly comprehend because I want nothing more than to lose myself, but that's not enough. Please, don't try to salvage this.

What do I want from you?

I want you to let me go, so I can be whomever I need to be without you. Sticking around only hurts us both.

Psy.D Time

One of the first things I learned at Griffin was how not to take your work home with you, something I was already quite keen on. Working 8.30 to 5.00 is long enough, I didn't really feel like carrying on with that. So I know first hand that you can:
a) leave work at work
b) burn out and end up crying in a tree after stumbling off the 53E four stops too early.
And God knows I don't want to see any of my workers crying in trees near bus stops.

But I was reading this book, and I came across a passage that...(give me a minute!) ...I can't find right now. First of all, it was a really good book, but also really creepy. The book followed a girl recovering from anorexia, and although I don't have any eating disorders it was ME. What she was thinking, what she was feeling was all identical to myself in similar situations. And I thought to myself, "If this guy can write a book and be exactly the same as what I'm thinking, then all these doctors must know what's going through my head as soon as they glance at my chart!" And then I went to get some milk.

Anyways, it reminded me of this whole time thing. In my previous entry, I mentioned how the 72 hours in the hospital was years for me and minutes for my friends. The same thing goes for anyone providing counseling and care. It may be a half hour in your life, one you'll chart then quickly forget as you go on to your next patient, but it's a hell-of-a-lot more to us. The session isn't over when we leave, we replay it and process it long after we've left.

Just something to think about.

PS: Does anyone else feel weird when you see someone else who is going to your counselor? I feel like we're either all a team, or they're intruding on...on something.

Fun With TV!

Go here to see my inspiration.

and a little tweak and we have...


It's a real TV show! It's called High School Reunion, (on TV Land, not the WB) and GOD i couldn't resist. I wish I had photoshop though, using paint sucks.

In With OD, Out with a Curse

First, I'd really like to thank you guys for all your supportive comments on my previous post. It really meant a lot to me. So, as a special treat, here is another picture of Ellen in a vest...
My, isn't that beautiful? (I'm not so big on the open buttons, and the pinstripes are almost hypnotic, but it's Ellen. In a vest. Case closed.)

---------------------------



Listen to this song while I take you back through space and time...fine. I'm taking you back a few months, to the day I was discharged.

[Fade out.]

[Fade in to our weird breakfast conversation on the unit.]

OTHER PATIENT: I'm psychotic.

KAT: I'm sui-

[Freeze frame.]

Voice Over: HOLD IT! Too far! Let's take it forward a bit.

[Fade out.]

[Fade in to Kat in the TV room, The Doctor is In!]

DR R: So, how are the suicidal thoughts?

KAT: [Fidgets in chair, then sighs.] They're there, but vague.

DR R: So you're still having them, but they're not as strong.

KAT: [Thinking, v/o] Duh.

DR R: Can you promise us you won't hurt yourself?

KAT: Yea. [Fidgets some more.]

DR R: Okay. [Speaking to CYW.] I'll cancel the form. [Speaking to Kat.] You should know that you have borderline personality traits. So we'll have to make sure that doesn't progress to the full disorder.

KAT: [Thinking, v/o] We? I have seen you four times in the past four years, counting today and yesterday.

DR R: Okay.

[All exit the room. Kat is excited to get out of hospital clothes, which suck.]

[Fade out.]

Wasn't that a fun journey? I edited some parts out, you know, keep a little mystery going. I'm joking of course, I'm pretty open about all this stuff. But I did do some editing. Anyways, within the next few days I learned what this new half-diagnosis meant.

• I'm manipulative.
• I'm attention-seeking.
• I have...abandonment issues? What the hell?

Yea, not really with the abandonment. I can think of a lot of times I felt pretty alone, but from what I've read, I'm not even close to having abandonment issues worthy of being part of the DSM-IV criteria. But the other two, I guess you could say that. I'm very sneaky and passive-aggressive, although I'm starting to become more assertive. (Oh, by the way, you can stop listening to the Beach Boys now. It doesn't really work with this part.)

Here is why I'm manipulative and attention-seeking:
I've tried to kill myself a few times already, at least three times in 2007, (but they only know about two) and a lot more in previous years. So! By attempting suicide, I am manipulating the people around me to stop and pay attention.

This is pretty much true. Every other time I've tried to kill myself, I really just wanted someone to step in and help me. I didn't really want to die, at least not forever. I wanted to be able to skip all those horrible bits, and I wanted someone to really, really listen to me. I was drowning! I was sinking further and further down, and I needed a hand up. This time, it was different. But when I got to the 'lorspital, I decided, "Since I won't die, maybe...they can actually help me this time." And I knew what I was doing, when I answered all those questions truthfully. Just...some part of me thought that if I didn't lie this time, if I let them do what they had to do, something would change.

But nothing changed. I came out of the hospital with this new curse of BPD traits, and the knowledge that now nobody would listen. Nobody would help, because the next time I really need someone, and I talk to them before doing anything permanent, I'm going to be attention-seeking. Don't they see though? Don't they see that I AM attention seeking? I am seeking their help! I am telling them, "I am not strong enough to do this on my own, I know that, I need your help."

Suicide attempts are often referred to as "a cry for help." Analyst Joseph Laufer noted that, "this very apt term has fallen into disrepute because it has been used in a pejorative way about those who have attempted suicide, implying that they behaved in a manipulative way to draw attention to themselves." (1)

"...research with girls shows that dismissing teenage girls' suicidal behavior as manipulation overlooks what may have been the meaning of the suicidal act in the first place. They may have learned to manipulate, but are doing so in a spirit of hope, of getting needs met that have no been met otherwise. The original meaning of the word "manipulative" is "to lead by the hand." When suicidal acts enable girls to get help, it is inaccurate to see these acts as merely "manipulative". Treating them as such can lead girls to give up hope. And then, psychologically or literally, they are more likely to kill themselves."(2)

Can't these people see? With their years in med school, residency, clinical training, and then just plain practicing medicine and their specialty, are they now blind to the fact they we are screaming, we are shouting, and we are telling them, "I trust you, I need you, please, please, help me."


1. Laufer, J. (1995). The Suicidal Child. Madison, CT: International Universities Press, 1995, p. 104.
2. Machoian, Lisa. (2006.) The Disappearing Girl. Plume: Penguin Group USA, 2006, p.174.

Different

Point One

Uhhh hello!? I think I need to get myself some more vests. That is fantastic.


Point Two

I am really different from other people.

I kind of just realized that last night. At least, in those terms. I always knew I was different, I was a REALLY REALLY weird kid! And I liked that, it gave me someone to be, a personality to fit into. It made things easier if I could just be a weird kid.

But now that I am more capable of exploring different sides of myself, it's not something I'm so big on. Yes, I am a little off-centre. But I wish that I wasn't now. I mean, there's so much to fight without me being different. If I - and I can't believe I'm saying this - if I wasn't queer, it would be so much easier. It is so all-encompassing, right down to the pronouns I use. If I wasn't queer I might still go to Catholic church. I would never have met all these great people at Griffin, but I wouldn't have to think about prom and dances and my debut in all these ways. And if I wasn't sick, I might be graduating this year and not fighting so much with my parents. Or myself. Or the school.

Anyways yea, I know that being different has taught me a lot, but sometimes it really sucks. Like how it took me three hours to type this because I kept forgetting what I was doing.