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.

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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.

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