Stupid health.

So yeah. I’ve spent the last 3 weeks in odd fluctuations of poor health.

I went camping in Cape Breton at the end of June. I had a lot of fun and took some great photos. I also got devoured by bugs. Bugs really like me.

One of said bug bites (what bug, I don’t know) got infected with 24 hours of my return to Halifax. It swelled up like a balloon and provided me with the displeasure of the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. I could barely walk and was, at some points, hysterically sobbing with pain. So, I went to a walk in clinic and got medication – which happens to be the same stuff they give for malaria and staph infections. I was required to take these large pills 4x per day for 10 days.

And that medication provided me with a mosaic of horrible side effects. Without going into too much detail, most things that I suffered were almost the opposite of what the expected side effects were.

And then I woke up this morning, with only 2 days left of pills, covered in hives. My legs, the backs of my arms, and my entire front chest. Over the course of the day they spread.

I went to the doctor (again) – this time my actual doctor. He told me to stop the pills, to double my normal dose of Reactin, and come back and see him Wednesday.

I am miserable and covered in calamine lotion. I have taken a baking soda bath, a black tea bath, and I’m about to down some peppermint tea in hopes of feeling human again.

I really hope that I wake up tomorrow NOT dead. Or itchy. 3 weeks of itchy is starting to get old.

This is a personal topic. Any similarity to persons, living or dead, is completely intentional.

I know that inevitably, change is a good thing.

It often doesn’t feel that way when it happens, instead sending people into darker places they might have forgotten to visit recently. I have always thought it is important to embrace the darker things about ourselves – the things we sweep under the rug and avoid until the bump becomes big enough to trip over.

I have recently ended a friendship. I think it was, by far, one of the easiest and hardest things I have ever done. I think that I was prepared for it, but I still mourn it with a tang of newness and surprise. I maintain that it is ‘for the best’ – you know, the things mothers tell their heartbroken daughters when their first crush rejects them for the cheerleader with the ample bosom – but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard to adjust to. When you welcome someone into your life to learn from and to learn from you, you always hope for and expect the best. I do not trust easily, so this makes this even harder than for most, even though it was ‘for the best’.

How did I know when to end it?

Much like any relationship, you need to look at it with pros and cons. What are you getting out of your friendship? A friend should make you feel wanted, needed, and special. When the cons start to outweigh the pros, you need to approach the person and try and fix it. Failing that, sometimes it is just better to cut things off before they end even worse. Over the past 7 years, things have progressed from a tentative trust to a full-blown trust, back to a hurtful betrayal. I simply weighed my options, and decided that if I was going to be as mentally healthy as I could be, I could not let someone who was doing harm to my self worth be a part of my life.

What were the grievous offenses?

- showing no respect to me as a woman, to the point of being sexist and almost misogynistic.
- alluding to the fact that they thought I was fat and ugly, no less than 3 times in the past 6 months (and multiple times in the years before that)
- breaking plans with no notice and no notification, thus wasting my time, repeatedly
- no remorse for actions done, regardless of admitted wrong
- treating women as worthless in general, even though it has been expressed multiple times by multiple women that this is wrong
- doesn’t care that I have ended the friendship (really, that’s the kicker)

But, of course, there have to be pros:

- generous with time and money
- similar interests
- close understanding
- supportive about school

To me, it just didn’t add up.

I am still grieving. To me, it feels as though someone had died – and it some ways, it is that way. The person I knew is dead. People are ever changing.

I know that I am not the easiest person to get along with, nor am I everyone’s cup of tea. I have a strong personality that can be overwhelming at times. Beyond that first impression, I am a good person. I am funny and kind and supportive. I like listening to people talk. To say that I have never done wrong would be ludicrous. But I function enough as a normal person to know when I have trampled over that line into ‘no’ territory.

I have my memories of good times, fun, and tears. I will remember the platonic love I once had for this person and will hold it dear, like a long dead relative.

And I will grieve for this. I will slide into the darker bits, and I will get through this. I will move on.

Rob Thomas: the next new hero

I am a straight man, with a big gay chip on my shoulder.

A while back on my Twitter page (yes, I know how ridiculous it sounds), I mentioned that, if I believed in the devil, Pat Robertson might be him.

Being a fairly liberal-leaning guy with either liberal friends or Republican and Christian friends who don’t believe that being one has anything to do with the other, I was surprised at how many people took offense to what I had to say.

These people weren’t friends of Mr. Robertson but friends, apparently, of God. They had “spoken” with him and he had assured them that he was no friend of the gays. He also told them that he loved America more than any other country and was a huge fan of Dancing With the Stars.

The small controversy or “Twitter-versy” (patent on phrase pending) all started when I had made the mistake of asking why two people of the same sex shouldn’t be able to make the same life-long commitment and (more importantly) under the same god, as straight people. Why can’t my gay friends be as happily married as my wife and I? It seemed simple to me, but let me start off by telling you a series of things that I believe to be true:

I am a person who believes that people are born gay. I don’t think you have any control over what moves you or to whom you’re attracted. That’s why it’s called an attraction and not a choice.

I believe that America is a great nation of even greater people. I also believe that anyone who says that this is a “Christian nation” has RHS, or revisionist history syndrome, and doesn’t realize that most of our founding fathers were either atheist or at least could see, even in the 1700s, that all through Europe at the time, religion was the cause of so much persecution that they needed to put into their brand new constitution a SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE so that the ideals of a group of people could never be forced onto the whole. (I also find it funny when people point out to me that it says “one nation under god” in our pledge of allegiance, not realizing that this was an addition made in 1954 during the communism scare of the McCarthy era. It’s not surprising, however, knowing that these same people would punch me in the mouth if I called Jesus a Jew.)

I believe the fact that an atheist, who doesn’t believe in God at all, is allowed to enter into the holy land of marriage while a gay Christian is not, shows that this law is arbitrary. Are we to believe that anyone who doesn’t live their life according to the King James Bible isn’t protected by the same laws that protect those who do? Using the same argument that I’ve seen on the 700 Club, that would mean that Jewish, Hindu, or Muslim weddings are also null and void.

I believe that to deny this right to the gay population is to say to them, “this god is not your god and he doesn’t love you.” There isn’t one person who is against gay marriage that can give me a reason why it shouldn’t be legal without bringing God or their religion into it. Still, I’m amazed at the audacity of a small, misdirected group of the ultra-conservative Christian right wing, to spend millions of dollars, in a recession, on advertisements to stop two men or women who love each other from being able to be married, but when you present any opposition to them, they accuse you of attacking their religion. Isn’t it funny that the people who are the quickest to take someone’s basic rights to happiness are always the loudest to scream when someone attacks their right to do so?

But this isn’t a paper about religion. How could it be? Since we clearly have a separation of church and state, how could a conversation about laws have anything to do with religion at all? I’m writing about basic civil rights. We’ve been here before, fighting for the rights of African Americans or women to vote, or the rights of Jewish Americans to worship as they see fit. And, just as whites fought for African Americans or Christians for Jewish Americans, straight people must stand up and be a voice for gay people.

I’ve heard it said before, many times, that if two men or two women are allowed to join into a civil union together, why can’t they be happy with that and why is it so important that they call it marriage? In essence, what’s in a name?

A civil union has to do with death. It’s essentially a document that gives you lower taxes and the right to let your faux spouse collect your insurance when you pass away. A marriage is about life. It’s about a commitment. And this argument is about allowing people to have the right to make that commitment, even if it doesn’t make sense to you. Anything else falls under the category of “separate but equal” and we know how that works out.

The support of legalizing gay marriage is in no way meant to change the ideals of the section of Christians who believe that homosexuality is a sin. But we should refuse to let other people’s ideals shape the way we live our lives. Each of us has a short ride on this earth and as long as we stay in our lane, and don’t affect someone else’s ride, we should be allowed to drive as we see fit.

The Big, Gay chip on my shoulder

Fucking sing it, brother.

Prop 8 was not amended. People need to wake the fuck up. There are only 7 countries in this world that allow gay folks the same legal rights and freedoms (including marriage) that I have. And I am so proud to be living in one of them (for reference, they are Canada, Sweden, Norway, South Africa, Spain, Belgium, and the Netherlands).

Gay is not a choice, or a lifestyle. It is a natural evolution – for animals and people.

I am also straight, with a huge gay chip on my shoulder.

In which I wonder how to survive.

At my age, there is no reason for me to waste time on things that aren’t working.

I cleared my physical stuff out earlier this month. There is some lingering bits but most of the unnecessary clutter is gone. In a couple months. I will no longer have scholastic clutter (for the time being) and I will have graduated from a post secondary institution.

I am practically breathing frustration. A lot of people in my life are under a lot of stress, and it is negatively impacting on everyone else. I spent the majority of today in a foul mood from picking up on everyone else’s foul mood.

I am just so tired of everything. Of not being able to properly mourn my great uncle. Of not being able to go to Montreal. Of being poor and frustrated. Of having no one understand me (or even try to). Of being alone and forgotten, like a once loved dress at the back of a closet.

I just want to move far away and never have to talk to people again.

They say that the trials make life worth living… do they really?

Fatty bo batty, apparently.

A person who I consider to be a good friend recently alluded to the fact that they think I am fat twice in the last week. Both times we were in some manner of shop.

Well, thanks. I really appreciate when people point out my flaws while I’m in a public place.

Let’s face facts, folks: I am not a skinny girl. I never was, and I think it would take me being very ill to become so. I come from hardy stock – my mother, grandmother, great grandmother, etc are/were all pear shaped. I inherited the unfortunate trait of carrying most of my weight on my stomach. I am comfortable with having meat on my bones. I know I could be thinner, but I don’t usually worry about it too much because I know I am healthy. I exercise, I eat well – not a lot of greasy crap and lots of fruits/veg. I tend to gain around 10 pounds in the winter, and lose it all by summer from walking, hiking, cycling.

However, that does not give someone the right to insult me. I have serious self esteem issues and yes, it does bother me when people say cruel things to me. Things that should be thought but not said. I can’t read minds, so I don’t give a flying fuck what people are thinking. This person seems to lack the ability to filter what they are thinking, and they do not think what they say is wrong. Ever. If I want someone’s opinion on my weight, I will ask them for it. Hell, if I want someone’s opinion about anything to do with my personal appearance, I will ask. Criticism of my genetics is not welcomed.

And yes, before people get all ‘you should talk to them!’ on me, I have tried. It is rather like talking to brick wall. I don’t think this person actually respects me enough to be concerned with how they hurt me. They tend to avoid, ignore, pretend nothing happened, and hope it’ll go away. And this keeps happening, again and again. I feel like I’m in some kind of abusive relationship – hoping they’ll change, knowing they never will, but going back for more abuse. As someone who HAS been in an abusive relationship, it definitely feels like it all over again.

I am very tired of toxic people in my life. I’m good at talking myself into being depressed and suicidal, thanks. I don’t really need anyone’s help.

Is it too much to want my friends to respect me?

In which I explain how depression works.

I am facing facts. I have been feeling bummed for more than two weeks. All I do when I get home from school is sleep. I either overeat or I don’t eat for more than 8 hours. I cry at the drop of a hat.

I’m depressed again.

I’m not sure what the trigger has been. I think it has a lot to do with vitamin D deficiency, since I’m indoors most of the day and I don’t drink milk due to allergies. A lot of self worth issues are a culprit, too.

When I’m depressed, I feel like two different people struggling for control. My logical self knows that I need to be around people when I am depressed, but my illogical self pushes people away – for whatever reason. I’m mean and grouchy and do everything to get people away from me. It’s like the disease knows that when I am alone, I am more vulnerable to destructive thoughts and destructive tendencies.

Like today, for example. I had a crappy day, then I came home and slept of the couch. Then I moved from the couch into a bed and slept for a few hours. I kept telling people to leave me alone, when I really wanted to be around people and when I was left alone, I felt like no one cared enough about me, so why shouldn’t I just off myself?

Bullshit thinking, I know. And really, in hindsight, it doesn’t make a lot of sense unless you’ve been there.

And then I lied there and cried in the dark for 20 minutes. Then I forced myself to go out and run errands. I felt abandoned by the people in my house, so I was angry and hurt. I left in a huff – but it didn’t really feel like me. It was like having someone else control my body, running on auto. I was completely aware, but compelled to act in this specific way.

And then there’s all the destructive thinking – why am I not good enough? Why doesn’t anyone care? I could go out and ‘insert horrible thing happening to me here’ and no one would care. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

This is what I battle every single day of my life. Medication made it worse, like I was a girl possessed. Most of the time, I can control it – work to correct my negative thinking. Explain myself to myself and why these bullshit thinking patterns have to stop. It’s a full time job, balancing self care and everything else. I really need a strong support network, and a lot of times I don’t feel as though I have that.

I once was labelled as ‘emo’ by someone who was explaining who I was to another person. This pigeon-holing is just as terrible as my own thoughts, because it creates this social stigma – before, depressed people were just crazy (and why can’t they just cheer up?); now, they’re ‘emo’ and ‘whiny’ (and why can’t they just cheer up?). If it was as easy as flicking a light switch, I’d have done that already. I have been in therapy 4 times, been on 5 different medications, and being working through it on my own for over 10 years now. I’m not lazy about this, nor do I need to ‘get help’ by subjecting myself to more medication. I need to have supportive people around me, I need to be outside in the sunshine, and I need to NOT BE LEFT ALONE IN A DARK ROOM TO STEW IN MY OWN DARK THOUGHTS. Dear god.

And I need this to be a supportive environment. I need people to tell me if/when they are concerned. This depression stems from decades of self-worth issues from being abused as a child, and cool people I can count on would be awesome about now. It’s nice to have people to blow sunshine up your ass once in a while.

I know this is a bit much for the tl;dr crowd, but if you’ve gotten this far, yay for you.

In memory of Sybil and Lynda

The world lost a sweet soul this week. Cancer, in all it’s forms, is an unfair disease. It never discriminates.

Lynda Boutilier was an amazing, shining example of what people should strive to be – kind, sweet, positive. She fought her cancer bravely, but succombed January 7, 2009 at the age of 35.

Sybil Deford just wanted to tell her story, and bravely fought cancer 3 times before finally succombing on February 12, 2005 at the age of 32.

Sybil wrote a lot about her cancer, and, like Lynda, always tried to remain positive. Below is an except from her journal that I think is wisdom for everyone.

Treasure the real stuff and let go of the trivialities. The trivialities are really most of everything.

Be your best self, it’s enough to be that. Decide what that is and stick with it. To be less is to waste the beautiful experience of your life, and you don’t want to waste any of it, because it can vanish in an INSTANT and then you’ll have to start all over again, which would be a real drag.

Feed your soul and seek Truth. And go without fear, because fear is the enemy of faith. And faith is everything, man.

And always remember that the worst thing that can happen is really not that bad.

It’s a wild and rangy and overgrown road out there, and we need to keep our legs strong and our machetes sharp. But we also need to remember the soft things. So sing, look up at the sky a lot, and pick some daisies on your way. You’ll thank me later for the daisy part, trust me.

Find a nice rock to sharpen your machete, and whack away at the wild woods. And if worst comes to worst, you can always throw the rock.

Forge your way bravely, which means going in even if you’re scared, because to not go in is fatal. (And really lame. I mean, come on.)

Be joyful. Don’t waste your life being unhappy. It’s not worth it. As someone who’s had a lot of time to sit and think about stuff and watch life cruise on by, I can tell you that the only thing I want right now is to go back living my life, even the boring tedious parts. I treasure them ALL.

And remember to be kind to the people around you, because it’s their hands that hold your ropes to the earth. Without them, you’ll just float away. Remember that everyone’s doing the best they can, and judging and expecting is foolish and more wasting of your precious spirit. Besides, you’re not going to change anyone’s path, unless they want to. Go your way, and walk in peace around everyone else making their way. We’re all just people here, having an experience.

Let it go.

-Sybil Glory Deford (livejournal: fey), 1973 – 2005

Rest in peace, ladies. See you in the next life.

Day 24: Compassion

Today feels like a day for compassion. Hence the devotion to Kuan Yin. I have a permanent altar set up to her on my bookcase.

I was sick last night and into today – I slept for about 14 hours last night, interrupted briefly by the cat being a dick, and having to get up to call my boss and let her know that I would not be in today. I just ached and ached – like I had fallen or was hit by a truck. All this was compounded by a massive migraine. It sucked.

I felt much better toward the end of the afternoon. Maybe it was just a mild bug.

I then made a trip out to the hospital to visit two of my friends who just gave birth to a healthy baby boy this afternoon. I am very pleased for them – they seem a might bewildered by this tiny thing they created (in a good way), but very happy. It’s good – they deserve it. Their baby is very cute.

Still doesn’t make me want children, but I love watching other people with theirs, and playing with kids. I want to be the cool, kooky auntie, but I doubt I’ll be an auntie within the next 10 years, as my dear sister only turns 18 in February.

As I explained to someone else in a comment earlier this weekend, I fully support the right for people to have children – I think it’s great if you want kids. But I started babysitting when I was 11, and partially raised 12 children (as I am the eldest of 15 grandchildren) as I spent every weekend and every summer babysitting until I moved to Halifax (I have +5 immunity to baby poo). I have 16 years experience dealing with children, from newborns to teens. I love babysitting, but I don’t think I could handle my own wee sprogs. I’m content lending a hand now and then, but in no way do I want to subject myself to the pain of childbirth, nor the responsibility of bringing new life into an already overpopulated world when I don’t want to. I plan on getting sterilized when I turn 30. I highly respect my friends, who have made the informed decision to raise a child, and I have the highest confidence that they are going to be (if they aren’t already) fantastic parents.

Like I said – if you want a few, great. Fill yer boots. The world needs more smart, creative people having babies. Love ‘em like crazy. I love babies.

Just don’t have 10.

This will be my last ‘photos for the holidays’ entry. I may pick up something else along the way, but school starts again tomorrow (well, Tuesday for me) and I’m going to be fully immersed in quite a few things for the next number of months.

But oh, will I still write.

Day 23: No photo available

No photo today – I am under the weather.

Day 22: RESULTS

Looking like a dude is seriously the in thing right now.

Well, I said I’d roll with it, and I am. It’s a change, which I have issues dealing with usually. But hey, I can work this – I worked last year’s necessary short cut until it grew out. The shortness will be here for a few months, at least until I can get enough of my natural colour in for a stylist to match and remove the dark bits, or until I cut it all out – whichever comes first.

I’m just gonna have ‘girl’ it up, or faux hawk it something. I also plan on getting my veritable forest eyebrows waxed in the next week or so. Simple lawn work for what’s behind the picket fence.