Cat :(

Jul. 11th, 2011 11:55 pm
frightened: (karate)
Short version: after a week, we finally managed to catch the stray cat that lives in my parents' garden, but he was so badly injured he had to be put down.

Long, miserable and graphic version under the cut.

Read more... )
frightened: (metallicar supernatural)
This weekend, there was a death*, a birth**, a wedding*** and some fighting****.

I'm currently feeling fairly detached from everything. This is probably for the avoidance of explosions.

* One of the little kids from karate. One of those very sudden inexplicable things.
** Family friend, emergency c-section.
*** Old school friend. First church wedding I've ever been to.
**** Karate competition. Got my ass kicked. Very very full of adrenaline afterwards. Didn't help that I found out about the kid just before.
frightened: (bike)
If there's anybody who reads my LJ who doesn't have some kind of mental or chronic illness, it's probably not clear what all the fuss is about. But for me, this is one of the best days I've had in a long time, and I've done a bunch of stuff I've been meaning to get around to. There's still stuff that needs doing - I didn't get around to picking up my prescription, for instance - but still, this was a damn good day. Recently, if I'd managed one of these things, I was calling it a success.

Stuff I did! YAY! Go team me! )

Phew! Now I think I'm going to bed.

* Bad thing: discovering the raspberry bush you want to save is thoroughly tangled up with couch grass you want to fatally kill very hard to death until it dies of it and isn't alive any more.

Worse thing: starting the uprooting and untangling process with your bare hands, and finding the large and thriving nest of red** ants in there.

** Since I didn't get stung, I'm thinking they were actually yellow ants, which are less aggressive. Still startled the hell out of me.
frightened: Photo by Jason B (Default)
I am, to quote Christopher Brookmyre, suffering from a condition referred to in the medical journals as "all fucked up".

I'm just all stressed and antsy and discombobulated. I think I overestimated my caffeine tolerance today - it has been creeping up, but not to the point where I can drink three cups of sod-the-teaspoon-just-pour-it-in coffee when I'm working at the most sleepy and tedious campus and I've nothing to distract me. So that hasn't helped. But generally, I'm all... eh. Karate helped, but the high from exercise is a temporary solution. I'm so stressed out about the things I'm not doing that it's stopping me from starting to do them. And I know the way to deal with this: a little bit at a time, focus on what I can do rather than what I can't, ditch the idea that if I can't do everything then I can't do anything. I know. Come on, girl.

It's just difficult, again, and I'm tired. I think it's unreasonable how I have to keep doing things like cleaning the house, shaving my head, weeding the vegetables... can't I just do it once? I could manage to do it once.

Eh. </whine>.
frightened: (sigh)
So today I realised that my feeling of cranky and frustrated and generally out-of-sorts is exactly 28 days since I last felt like this. D'oh. Apparently, it really is PMT.

I swear, once upon a time I had actual emotions. Now I just have hormones and bad brain chemistry. It's kind of depressing.
frightened: (sigh)
I don't know why, but I've been dwelling on the end of my last bout of counselling.

Read more... )

And I just feel tired, and depressed, and like any freaking time I ask for help someone just sees that point of weakness and goes for it.

At this point, I'd like to make a request of people going into the mental health professions. Please, get your shit together first. You should be less clingy and needy than your client. You should take things less personally than your client. And if you're going for my squishy bits, use needles, not fishhooks, so I don't tear bits out and leave them all over the carpet when I try to get away.
frightened: (karate)
Hooray, water coming through the kitchen ceiling!

One plumbing visit later, that problem seems to be fixed; just need to de-trash the house.

I swear, this month has sucked from start to finish. It's just been constant days of trying to do several things at once in a short time period, only to have some big disaster take out the several little things and make me deal with a big thing instead. I've missed a karate competition because I was at work and several classes due to illness/injury. I WANT TO PUNCH SOMETHING.
frightened: (karate)
And has been up puking since 3 am?

This girl!

Edit 10 am: Got three hours' sleep. Woke up. Puked some more.
frightened: (angry feminist)
"T-shirt bras"

I thought the purpose was to have a bra you could wear under a clingy t-shirt and not have seams or lumps. Apparently not. As far as I can tell, the purpose is to have a bra you can wear under a very baggy t-shirt, and still have your breasts look cartoonishly large and pointy.

And what the hell is with all this padding? I'm a D-cup! They don't need to be any bigger! They don't need pushing up and out of the damn cups! They just need to stay in one place while I run for the bus.

Also, when I buy underwear, I find myself pitching my voice higher and softer to save us all the confusion and embarrassment.


Nov. 4th, 2010 10:37 am
frightened: (karate)
Doctor reckons it's just bruised, cos I can feel and move everything, even if I'm not as bendy as usual, and the pain's staying where I got kicked and not radiating anywhere. So that's a relief.
frightened: (karate)
So at karate class last Thursday, I got kicked in the spine by someone much heavier and stronger than me. Like, direct hit, time slowing down while I wonder if I'm gonna be walking after this. It's been aching all week, and I haven't been able to lift all the stuff or move in all the directions I usually can. This morning Sensei ordered me to go to the doctor.

I hate going to the doctor. I'm sick of the sight of them, and I'm always expecting to be told a) there's nothing wrong with me and I just want attention or b) if there is something wrong with me, it's my own fault. I mean, after I passed out and cut my chin open, I hid in my room for a few hours before going to a walk-in centre. Where they said, "And it didn't occur to you to go to A&E?" I said, honestly, "Er, no." And then the woman put me in a taxi to A&E because she didn't trust me not to bolt. *shrug*
frightened: (karate)
And when I'm done rolling on the floor laughing, I'll probably be offended and upset and whatnot. But for now, I'm Lorna the ROFLator.

So, today I discovered that my counsellor, the person I go to to try and come to terms with the chronic mental illness that might kill me, has a problem with mental illness. Actually, I'd say my soon-to-be-ex-counsellor is part of the problem with mental illness.

I'd been suspecting that his view of depression and mine were not the same, given his use of weasel words like "problem" and "issues", and his obvious discomfort when I used words like "crazy" and "brain disease". Today I managed to get his view out of him, with a bit of poking and acting more innocent and ignorant than I in fact was.

Apparently I am not crazy, because I'm not *strange wobbly arms-and-torso gesture*. (He has in the past said that I don't "act crazy", which makes me worry, if the people in his life stare at the floor and cry uncontrollably and that's somehow normal.)

I claimed ignorance.

He explained that crazy is schizophrenia, which is serious.

I pointed out that someone with depression is more likely to kill themselves than someone with schizophrenia.*

He said - wait for it, because this is a good one - that schizophrenics kill other people. Read more... )
frightened: (angry feminist)
I bought makeup.

On the plus side, it's purple and glittery.

I also have matching black-feather earrings and fascinator.

(For the karate club's 30th anniversary shindig. Black tie/dress to impress. I've decided to goth up.)

Teal Deer

Sep. 29th, 2010 10:50 am
frightened: (karate)
Shorter last post:

It's sort of getting to the point where yes, I'm sure you're sorry you trod on my toe, and no, I know you'd never do such a thing on purpose, and yes, I'm happy to forgive you, and no, I won't hold a grudge or anything, and yes, I know you're deeply hurt by the idea that there could be any malice behind your actions, but please, will you STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT IT AND JUST GET OFF MY DAMN TOE?!?!?!?!
frightened: (sigh)
Stupid blood tests.

I hope they're not expecting me to be cheerful and friendly.

frightened: (sigh)
Because I'm sick of saying this and having people look at me like I'm paranoid and/or stupid:

You have no legal right to choose your psychiatrist1

Unfortunately there is no legal right to a second opinion2

My counsellor is very... consumer capitalist. He absolutely cannot grasp the idea that, as a patient, I get what I'm given. And when I say no, while there may be guidelines that doctors may or may not bother to follow, I have no legal right whatsoever to do the things you're suggesting, he looks at me like he's never heard of this before. Then he says he's going to look into that (because my word cannot be trusted, clearly).

Putting someone in a position where they're forced to explain, again and again, just how powerless and screwed they are, is (*drumroll*)... DEPRESSING. Don't do it. Don't dangle false hope. Don't tell me "you're sure" it's not that bad when you don't, in fact, know.

I am very, very pleased that these depressing facts became less relevant when sheer chance granted me a humane psychiatrist. But sheer chance is all it was, and if it hadn't, there wouldn't be a great deal I could do about it.

1 Rethink, 'My doctor is not listening',, last accessed 27/09/2010.

2 Rethink, 'What is a second opinion?',, last accessed 27/09/2010.
frightened: (janis)


frightened: (karate)
Now granted, when it comes to psychiatric treatment, I am not a nice person. I am angry, I am ruthless in achieving my goals, and I am a smartass. The shrinks don't like this. It hurts their feelings.

Thing is, my anger, my ruthlessness and my smartassery has done more for me than they ever have. They're what I turn on myself when dealing with things like my eating disorder, the urge to get drunk, the urge to cut up my arms, and strings of panic attacks or checking that stop me getting on with my day. When I'm tired and down and running on empty, I can throw them on and swirl them like a badass leather trenchcoat and they hold me up for a little bit longer. They're the autopilot I switch to when dealing with situations that would leave me a sobbing heap on the floor if I actually engaged emotionally. They're also pretty good for dealing with people who would otherwise walk all over my stated wishes with their professional status and their psychonormative privilege. They work.

So the prospect of ditching them, in order to spare the feelings of people who have done worse than nothing for me? Unlikely to go down well.

(This post was brought to you by this morning's upcoming psychiatric appointment.)
frightened: (karate)
Seriously, mental health professionals, stop harping on about my intelligence. Yeah, it's nice that you've noticed I'm not as dumb as a bag of rocks, but really. Neither are most of your other patients. I'm not some kind of super-genius. It worries me that you sound so surprised and interested.

And let me tell you a little secret. If someone's chronically depressed, it is highly fucking unlikely that she will hear "you're so intelligent" as a compliment. She will hear it as yet more expectations that she has to live up to. "You're so intelligent" actually means:

- "You're so intelligent, so why haven't you sorted yourself out by now?"
- "You're so intelligent, so you shouldn't be wasting my time like this."
- "You're so intelligent, so you must be doing this on purpose."
- "You're so intelligent, so why do you keep disappointing me?"
- "You're so intelligent, so why have you fucked up yet again?"


frightened: Photo by Jason B (Default)

August 2012



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