Wednesday, December 22, 2010


So, I was completely shit faced the other night. Home alone. Bored with facebook, I begin to browse pet rescue sites. RSPCA, Cat Protection Society. I've seen these ones a million times before, but I can't help looking. I decide this time to look at the Animal Welfare League.

And I find her.

A blue tuxedo manx. Jazz.

This is me, when I was 13. Jess is my cat. She is a blue tuxedo manx. It seems like fate.
I trekked out to the animal shelter. An hour away. Just to see this cat. We approached the cage, and she looks up us with big eyes, and starts paddling right where she's lying. I pick her up and give her a cuddle. I'm expecting her to drool. Then for the big question. 'What's she like with other cats?' I don't need her to be friends with them immediately, I just don't want her to be aggressive.

We introduced her to the cat in the next cage. She cringed against me, and hissed at it. We hmm'd at that. I went and met all the cats, then back to Jazz. We put her on the ground, and she immediately jumped back into her cage. Poor bugger was terrified.

We bought out the extremely friendly cat next to her. And had them both on the ground at the same time. The friendly cat was walking up to cats trying to tear the cage to pieces in aggression, without a flick of a whisker. So sweet. Jazz sat in the corner.

I went and met the other cats again. I went back to Jazz, and she gave me the hopeful eyes. I think my heart broke a little then. I went into the friendly cats cage to see if Jazz would approach the wire for a pat. She did, even though the friendly cat was at my elbow.

Decision made. I'd take her.

It took me about half an hour to get her out of the cattery. Not because of anything she did, but because the staff wanted to say goodbye to her. And I was more than happy for them to get her out of the cat carrier to give her one last cuddle. When I got her home, she settled in quite well. I set her up in the bedroom, with the door open so everybody has access when I'm home. When I'm not there, she is locked away.

The first night, I woke up several times. She was either in my bed, or out exploring. The second night I got home and discovered she'd been playing with some stuff in my room. I gave her some toys to play with and she already seems to have a favourite. I was playing with her before bed. Playing 'chasey under the sheet'. She got so excited she ran at me, gave me the quickest and most unexpected head bonk, then turned and leapt off the bed and out the door. When I woke up, she was exploring, but running to me when I called her. Last night I tried to force her to explore and meet the others. It did not work. She got scared, and hid. In the middle of the night she was under the bed. I shut the door to lock her away from the others, and in the morning she was quietly asleep at my feet.

Tonight I skipped training, and gave her lots of cuddles, some tinned food. I've lain on my bed with her in my arms, and Raia standing on my shoulder. No problems. She is actively, but cautiously, exploring right now. I had the other cats out on the balcony, and she watched with desire written all over her whiskers. The door was open for her to join us, but she didn't. When Boots wandered back inside she stood on the other side of the cat tunnel, to her full height (but not fuzzed out) and hissed for all her 7 kilo's was worth. Poor Jazz stayed very still. I walked calmly up to Boots, and she just watched me, like she had all the right in the world to scare the newcomer. I corrected her. She is now hiding under the couch in disgrace.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Sew! A needle pulling thread!

Sorry, its an in joke. IN MAH HEAD!

I'm going a touch loopy these days.

If you can define a bodyslam as a touch.

I'm really struggling these days. Work has been especially stressful. The HR manger despises me. My boss is still shitty with me. I am just a shitty low minion. I have been forcibly reminded of that and it makes me feel like shit. We have had our annual performance reviews the last month. Everyone else finished loong ago. Mine was a few weeks after everybody elses. HR has been interefering with my doctors visits. They want to know how I am being treated. What medication I'm on. What dosage etc. Their reasoning is that they want to know that I am safe to work. They scheduled my review for after they had gotten enough out of my doctor. He cannot give them anything without my consent. It makes me sick. I cannot get away from it.

All of the other shitty low minions had their performance reviews with the boss and the supervisor. Mine was with HR and the boss.

I had a stress migraine instead. Its the worst migraine I've ever had. I could not even open my eyes in a darkened room. I did not want to eat, but was so nauseous that I could barely keep down water. I slept. A lot. I stayed home the day after too. My brain felt loose. Meaning that, if I turned my head too fast, I'd feel my brain clunking around in there. I popped asprin like candy for 2 days. I did the maths while waiting for the sleeping pills to kick in on the second night. The amount of asprin I had consumed would have caused a minimum of 500ml internal bleeding. Not to mention that I bleed easily enough anyway. And my meds strictly statre not to take with anticoagulants, specifically asprin. Asprin inhibits clotting, my meds exascerbate bleeding.

Then I got up and took enough codeine to knock me out for the night. I know its dangerous. And I really don't care. My shrink wants me to stop caring. But I don't think in this way. I had to go to work the next day. So I had to go to sleep.

On the plus side. I have stopped cutting myself. Downside - I've found new ways to self harm. And they leave gigantic bruises that take forever to heal. But at least bruises are easier to explain than cuts. Hey, I'm a klutz remember?

I don't think I will last long in this place. Something has to give, and if it doesn't, then my life is going to get seriously ugly. I hate this disease. Its hard enough to fight with support, but unsupported, its gut wrenching and life threatening.

Saturday, November 06, 2010

How to Meltdown in 12 days

Day 1: Self harming while at work. Stabbing myself with needles out of numbness and frustration. Vomiting from anxiety. Saw Les Miserables in gold class and had a mate stay over that night. I showered.

Day 2: Called in Sick. Spent the day on the couch watching DVDs.

Day 3: Back at work. Snapped at a coworker who has a history of not being able to help anyone, and argues about why does he have to do his job. Constantly. I called him fucking useless. Got dragged into boss' office and torn to shreds. Got told that I had an attitude problem, was argumentative, unhelpful, pushy, didn't see the big picture and didn't do my job. Got sent home, cut myself, showered to wash the blood off, and was catatonic for the rest of the day. I remember sitting on the floor crying, with a scalpel over my wrist, thinking I can't fight this disease anymore, but I didn't know if I could do it. I wasn't sure if 'it' was keep going or slash my wrists.

Day 4: Catatonic

Day 5: Packed my bags and flew back to Vic for a family do. Had to tell my mother wahts going on. Very difficult conversation. Did shower that morning.

Day 6: Family do. Was nice to see everyone. Slept all arvo, got woken up for a bbq, then home and straight to sleep. No shower.

Day 7: Flew home again. Big hugs from sister as she dropped me off at the airport. Was tired, and got to bed early. But didn't sleep well. Woke up at 1, 3.30 and 5.


Day 8: Called in sick. Couldn't face anyone. Got rung by the boss sometime in the middle of the day and told she expected me to not leave them in the lurch. I did train, and shower.

Day 9: Got taken to HR with the boss. We had a frank discussion, which involved them telling me I was completely out of line. My illness should not account for any behavioural differences. I am not to tell my coworkers if I am having a bad day, because it shows I expect them to deal with my shit. I am to be away if I'm unwell. I am a lowly minion, and am not to ask or tell anyone to do anything. I cut myself and then go watch the Melbourne Cup. I am unresponsive to my workmates when they try to talk to me for the remainder of the afternoon.

Day 10: Bad day. Struggling to even tie up my shoe laces. I don't want to go in, but have important work to do and have been told not to leave them in the lurch. I cry as soon as I get to work. Its tough to do the mindless morning tasks. I find a quiet room, and a scalpel, and cut myself and cry for half an hour, then go to work with blood seeping through my clothes. I am completely unresponsive to everyone, and look forward to my important work because its something I have to do alone, and I get to play with animals. Its the best part of my day, even if it is the most stressful. I sleep on the change room floor instead of going to lunch. I do not train.

Day 11: I call in sick. My coworker begs me to talk to her. I ignore. I am rung by the boss. Something has gone wrong and they don't know what to do. Spent most of the day reading boooks and on facebook. I try not to sleep during the day, but do pass out around 4. I do not shower, I do not train.

Day 12: Feeling much better. Meds seem to be kicking in. Back at work. I aplogised to cowrker for igniring her, and told her that I was under instructions not to burden anyone with my illness. I am still tired, but no need to sleep during the day. I train and I shower.

The moral to the story: Ill people are fucked in the head, and we don't need you screwing around with us. We need people to support and try to understand us. We will come back around. Just be patient.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010


I hate my life right now. Still fat. Still depressed.

Friday, October 01, 2010


So. Its no secret I've gained weight. I worked so hard to lose it, and have gained a buttload back. originally my first priority was to deal with my depression, but that's dealt with. So I feel like I can focus on my weight loss again.

This week I made a resolution. I decided no chocolate for a week. And I did exceptionally well. Wed and thurs I had a slip up, a total of 20 chocolate bullets. Not too bad I think. And today, after the resolution had ended... No chocolate at all. Little resolutions work. So, I resolve the following.

I will train at least there times a week. If, for some reason, I cannot do three times a week, I will do FOUR times a week the next week to maker up for it.

I will have 4 morning teas at work that consist of yoghurt and berries, ricotta cookie, or museli slice. I can have a cafe coffee if I need one, but preference for premium instant. I get one free morning tea a month.

Visits to the ice creamery near work... Limited to once a month.

I will have at least one lunch our diner per day that is low carb.

No chocolate at home, but no stressing about if I have it at work either.

Eat outs are to be one per week. Two at the utter max. This is more for financial reasons, but works here too.

Saturday, September 18, 2010


Ooh. Lookit. Blogging from my phone.

So. This post is for Ute. I'm pretty sure I've blogged it before, but I feel the need to share it again.

My Dad used to breed budgies for show. He must have had thousands of them over the years. I remember her had two side by side avairies at one stage. Each about 20 or 30m long. One for boys, one for girls. Plus his breeding room. I'm soo used to those little birds. Anyway. He bred all types over the years. Blue, green, grey, yellow, ones with funky hairstyles. In the later years he bred yellow ones. I thought they were boring, but he liked them.

This story is about a little white one he had, when I was about 10. He had a mate who swore black and blue, that If you fed a bird exclusively on beetroot leaves, it would turn red. So he got the beaut idea that if you take a white budgie, you can spray it with red food dye, and get a red bird. So that's what he did. Took a lovely little light grey bird, mixed up a spay bottle of red food colouring, and spray painted the bird. Dried poor birdie, then applied another coat. Repeat until bottle empty.

The next night he took pinkie to the bird show. Everyone there was in on the joke. And it went down rather well.

We had pinkie for about a year after that. Her colour faded over about a month. Her wing tips were the last to go. One night there was a massive wind storm, and the lock on dads aviary came undone. He lost all of his birds from that year, with the exception of one runty little grey thing.

Shame too.he had one bird with excellent potential.

Aggro was a bird dad gave to his mum. He was white. The bird. Although dad was white too. Nan wanted one she could teach to talk. Originally, aggro was named kimba, for the white lion. But we found that he was really a she. And true to form, she was aggressive. Hence the name. Shortly after nan and grandpa moved down to live with us, dad re acquired aggro to use as a breeder. and she was a fantastic mum too.

Guts was mums bird. He was a mop. A genetic deformity that causes extremely long feathers, and a short life span. he was a brilliant dark blue. Because of his condition, his mother decided to end his life. Which, according to nature, is what is to be done. She should spend her time raising young that would survive, right?

Dad interrupted her. And managed to save the poor bugger. her was a bloody mess. Literally. He had half his scalp chewed off and suffered brain damage. My dad, being the softie that he is, child not being himself to kill the poor fighter. So he saved his life instead. Kept him in a heat box, and hand fed him.

Guts was aptly named. He was always hungry. And he'd eat anything that would fit in his beak. He used to sit on mums shoulder and nibble her ears. He'd get out and run around the floor, shitting everywhere. God he was cheeky. On top of having thee mop defect, as a result of his injury he always had one foot splayed out behind him, and he dragged the wing on the same side.

After a few months, dad took him out to the aviary. We'd go down every afternoon to pay with guts, and another mop that ran around the floor with him. We'd pick him up and carry him on our shoulders. Occasionally, he'd come up and spend the night at the house, nibbling mums ears.

I remember the day he died. I remember mum holding him in her outstretched hand, sobbing. She had always helped dad look after the birds, but guts was the only one she'd ever attached to.

Monday, August 02, 2010

Jeebus H Christ on a pogo stick

Here is a list of the people who have pissed me off today.
  1. The coworkerS that I caught playing with their phones in a meeting today. Yes, multiples. Sitting side by side. I told one to quit it, and he did. Later, when I told the girl next to him to quit it, he defended her and said it didn't matter. Like hell it fucking doesn't. We're not here to fucking gasbag. I wanna sort shit out and go the fuck home. You having to ask for more info about something that has been clearly explained because you didn't pay attention is not helping the situation.
  2. The 'friend', IRL, who defriended me on facebook. No big drama. I mean, its just facebook. But don't tell me you quite facebook altogether when you've just defriended me and changed your name so that you can't be found.
  3. The friend who has stood me up for breakfasts, lunches and now dinners. Yeppers. For the birthday bonanza she said she'd be there. Then she wasn't. She has a history of not turning up because she can't be bothered. Not just for me, but for dates etc. She doesn't have a phone, so she can't be contacted when she is a no show. Apparently her mum was sick. On her facebook she has made plans with someone else. She still hasn't apologised. Do these people think I'm fucking stupid?
  4. The fuckwit moron who utilises our services at work. Passive aggressive bitch makes our lives difficult. Someone made a mistake. I don't know if it was us or her. But she is blaming us for fucking up the next month's worth of her work. From the wording of the email (that she sent straight to the director of the facility) it would seem that she can't find the instructions that she gave us. I know that those instructions would have been kept my my boss.  Lets for one moment ignore ALL the mistakes she's made that have made our lives more difficult... 
  • All of the extra breeding (and killing) we've had to do because she couldn't get her genotypes right. 
  • All of the extra work we had to do looking after animals they didn't want. Then having to kill them, because they didn't tell us they didn't want them.
  • All of the extra samples we had to take because they couldn't get their genotypes right
  • The way they give us cull lists when they're massive, so it takes an hour to do, and makes us want to vomit afterwards.
  • The fact that she CONTINUALLY fucks up her genotypes, and still doesn't know how to do one gene properly. We have done a lot of work to get dirty animals clean, and we don't even know if they're the type they want. So she's wasted someone else's very hard, emotionally rending work. Not only that, we have got a large colony still breeding in special conditions because we don't know if the clean animals are what they want. And when its time for that colony to go, its going to be exceptionally tough on ME. There will be vomiting and possibly self mutilation after that one.
Now, I don't care who made the fucking mistake. If it was her, then she should have kept her trap shut and spoken to the person she gave her instructions to. If it was us, then she should have kept her trap shut and spoken directly to the person who made that mistake. That is the very least that we would have done for her. As it stands, all she has done is pissed us off.

Sunday, August 01, 2010

Birthday Bonanza

In Victoria

Me and Kez


Butterfly Pronz

Tiger Cubs


Mr Shuffles (Pati Harn)

Luk Chai and Mum

Luk Chai

Diving for its toy

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Time Out

So I'm on holidays at the moment. I'm doing my Birthday Bonanza. I haven't really celebrated my birthday for years, so this is all new to me.

I've road tripped from Sydney to the shithole I used to live in. It is a long trip, but I do love it. Its just me, Clancy the gay silver Astra, my music and a couple of cans of sugar free V. I love the open road and the sunshine on the hills. I have my scheduled stops. Mostly at McDonalds. I don't eat the shit, but they do make coffee and I love to steal their single serve spreads. I can't help it. I grab a handful on the way in, and a handful on the way out, and at the end of the road trip I count them up.

To help me be healthier on the trip, I took my own salads and had a picnic on the way down. Which was great fun. Then I cranked my music and sang along to U2 and Pink. I'm both tone deaf and flat, so I had the music on pretty loud to compensate for that. The guys doing the roadworks were laughing at me. And I waved. Insanity is fun sometimes.

On Saturday I caught the train down to Melbourne. Had lunch with cousins, before heading out to meet my sister in the arvo. She made a lovely roast dinner and I invited a few friends around. We had "Happy Birthday" spelled out in individual letters on my apple/ricotta crumble. And then we played the best game of scrabble with those letters. And put all of those letters on my chest and took pictures. My favourite was 'Hi Bra'.

So we reminisced and chilled out. It was really great to catch up with the girls, really easygoing and lots of laughs.

Sunday was for the Zoo. I have to say, I do like Taronga zoo, but Melb just shits all over it. Bigger enclosures, better designs and more things for them to do in them. And a much wider range of animals. More monkeys, in a specialised treetop walkthrough. Which was a highlight for me, because I came face to face with a female Lar Gibbon. She was hanging up against the glass looking back at the visitors, when she spotted me and swung over to sit right in front of me. Then she picked at her ass and nibbled her fingers, which I won't let detract from the moment. She was there for about 3 or 4 minutes, before she spotted another person and swung on to see him. Very cool.

Melb Zoo also has Tiger cubs, and an elephant calf too. I think the elephant enclosure is the one place that Taronga gets one up on Melb.

Monday (yesterday) was a train trip back to the shithole. Where I was in on Dad's wedding plans to his current partner. Awkward much? Then grocery shopping with Mum. We had a picnic style dinner with two friends from high school and my oldest mate brought her daughter along. More reminiscing and much more laughter. Especially when we realised that Mum had fed the kid an energy drink at 8pm.

At the moment its about 1 pm. I'm still in my pyjamas. *smug* Tonight is dinner with Dad and another mate from high school. Then tomorrow is my b'day. I don't have anything planned really. Lunch out with Mum, then a movie I guess. There will be shopping as well. I can't come home without going to the factory sales.

Photos will come when I get home.

Sunday, July 11, 2010


Ok. I'm epically fucking bored right around now. Sunday night. I've cleaned. I've cooked as much as one can with the limits on fresh veges that I've got. Payday approaches.

But that's not what I'm online to write about.

I had a shrink visit this week. No biggie. I took the day off to chillax afterwards. Did a bit of shopping and texted the booty call. He said he'd be catching up with me, before he started work in the afternoon, but after his meeting finished.

I messaged him that I'd be home around midday. Well, I messaged him lots of other things, but I choose not to post them here. They're kind of irrelevant. My train got in a little late. I was hungry, so I decided to grab a sweet tea to consume on the way home. I mean, I thought he was going to be there around 12, it was 12 already, and I had to shower, shave and at least tidy up a little. I really didn't have time to chew.

I was contemplating my drink as I was walking home. The sugared juice of a root vegetable with balls of tapioca starch at the bottom. And it was going down so well. Until I bumped into one of my trainers.

Oh. The *shame*.

When I saw him I just stopped. I knew I'd been busted and he knew I wasn't consuming anything that was good. He was very nice about it. And I was lucky it wasn't Simon. He would have ripped it out of my hands, thrown it in the bin and yelled at me. Irrelevant of the fact that we were in the middle of a shopping centre.

Of course, the next time I went to training I got in trouble. We were made to do hill sprints. Which I took with good grace and lots of laughs.

But I was kind of lucky to get caught. Its really highlighted to me the fact that, while I considered how the drink fit the convenience I was after, I didn't think about it. I really need to start doing that again.

Oh. And for the booty call. He never made it. *le sigh* I had a cup of carbs for nothing.

This weeks weight 91.5kg.

Tuesday, July 06, 2010


Through early morning fog I see
visions of the things to be
the pains that are withheld for me
I realize and I can see...
that suicide is painless
it brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
I try to find a way to make
all our little joys relate
without that ever-present hate
but now I know that it's too late, and...
The game of life is hard to play
I'm gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I'll someday lay
so this is all I have to say.
The only way to win is cheat
And lay it down before I'm beat
and to another give my seat
for that's the only painless feat.
The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn't hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows it grin, but...
A brave man once requested me
to answer questions that are key
is it to be or not to be
and I replied 'oh why ask me?'
'Cause suicide is painless
it brings on many changes
and I can take or leave it if I please.
...and you can do the same thing if you please.
So I’ve been down pretty low in my life. I first battled depression when I was about 12. From 12 to about 16. Fuck. That sounds like a looong time. And it was. A very long, dark time. Even now I bear the scars of that period. Both emotionally and physically. I attempted suicide on numerous occasions. Obviously, none of which were successful. Some were cries for help, others were more serious.
One thing I do know from that period, is that if I ever got that low again, I would not bother to try to get through it. I have lived, and loved. I’ve travelled and journeyed, laughed and cried. But honestly, it was not worth it. That struggle, every day, to get up, to take my next breath… Just to do all of that.
Really. Not worth it.
I have gotten pretty low over the last few weeks. Low enough to really remember that period of my life, and how much it scares and scars me. And I have this to say.
Suicide is NOT painless. It is the most difficult thing to do. To even seriously consider it. I cannot explain. But I will try.
I think of the people I love. And of how much they will miss me, and how much they will hurt. And it tears me up. I cry until it feels my soul will bleed. For hours. I do love these people, and I do not want to cause them suffering.
So in the end, I do not end myself, because I do not think that I am worth the bother that people will go through.
The last few weeks I've been taking a break from life, while my meds readjusted. The last post I wrote, I was at my lowest the day before. That day that I went to work, when I really should have stayed in bed. I was so bad, that I even warned a few people how bad I was. I think that helped.
I took a looong break from training too. About 3 weeks. Which, for me, is an eternity. I wanted to go back last Monday, but I couldn’t find the group, and I had a panic attack and left. I’m kind of glad I did.
I did not go back at all last week. It was a difficult week at work, and while I felt ok to do it all, I was physically exhausted by the end of the day.
I went back to training tonight, and lordy did I miss it. But, most importantly to me right now, they did miss me too. They were not even people that I ‘d thought of as missing me.
I was pleasantly surprised too. During the 3 weeks of depression, I did not train. I did eat comfort food. And Pizza *gasp*. Once. And I always had access to chocolate. At work. And put on less than 1kg. Not bad. I think it helps that I have an intolerance to greasy and processed sugary foods. And this time around, my favourite comfort food was fresh fruit salad with greek yoghurt. Yummeh.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Dust free!

So, I have dusted off the old blog. Revamped it. How do you like my layout? I find it to be quite fitting to the new tone of the blog. I think it will stay a while.

I've had a very quiet, long weekend. I was struggling on Thursday. Got to work in the morning, completely overwhelmed. Sat in the change room with the lights off and listen to Taylor Swift's 'White Horse' and cried a little.

Was very lethargic all day. We had a full building afternoon tea, and I elected not to go. I wanted to sit and watch the mice play instead. I had just changed a small room, and was watching the mums settle down with their babies again. They have quite big litters you know. And the mums were spread out over their pups, like a big blanket of food. The pups were having a drink, nudging and pushing the mum, and she's just asleep through it all. One pup came up to its mum, and started sucking on her face. Sooo cute. It startled mum awake, and she washed the pup a bit, and went back to sleep. The pup curled into mum, and nibbled on her chin instead. Muchly cute. I'm glad I went in on Thursday, just for that moment.

Friday was a different story. My alarm went off. I snoozed it. Again. And again. And again. Finally I rang in sick. I couldn't be bothered getting out of bed. I slept through til 2pm. Best thing ever. I felt so much better. Then I headed out to get a doc's certificate. Easiest thing ever. All I have to do is tell them that I have depression, my medication is being adjusted, and I'm not doing well. No questions asked. Well, one question. 'How long do you want?'

I did a bit of cooking too. Mum likes it when I do that. 'Forward planning' she calls it. Made several batches of low carb lasagne, and froze some meatballs. I like to have heat and eat in the freezer, for when cooking is too much, or for when I don't have time to cook. They come in handy after training too. I can chuck something in the oven, go have a shower, and when I'm clean, dinner's ready.

Saturday was chilling at home. Washed my sheets and remade my bed. I fucking love my bed right now, but it deserves a post all of its own. And sent dirty texts to my booty call.

Today I cooked as well. I made cookies. Chocolate cookies with honeycomb chunks, and chocolate with trail mix. And florentines. My trainer 'disliked' that on facebook. I'm quite happy to say that I made ricotta balls first, which I ate, and then the cookies had no appeal. Yay me!

I am wearing sweat pants at the moment. Most of my jeans do not fit, and the ones that do are on the line. I hate that. But, being realistic, I cannot focus on my weight right now. I need to work on my depression. The good news is, I go through massive stages of not eating, so I guess that makes up for the crap that I consume. Right?

Oh, and I've started knitting to. Something to keep my hands busy. Plus, the cats enjoy it.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Back Again?

Dear Readers.

I am very, very sorry about my recent blogging performance. I stopped this blog to do a weight loss blog, lost a heap of weight, put even more back on, then stopped that one too.

I have been very sick lately. After the breakdown that I had in January, I am now under psychiatric care. I am medicated. I am having another breakdown. Last week I rang my psych, and had an impromptu visit. He doubled my meds. I did not get out of bed until 2pm today. From now on, this will be new type of blog. It will be about weight loss, and depression. It will be more serious, but it will also have those moments of light hearted insanity that you are all used to.

So stick around, over the next few days I aim to dust off this old blog, revamp it, and start posting again.

Kind Regards


Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Friday, January 22, 2010


So. This blog is named Sanity Optional. It has been so since its conception on 23rd May, 2005. But right now, sanity is most definitely not optional.

As most regular readers are well aware, I have Bipolar. Well, I think I do. I've never been diagnosed. I have my ups and downs, my ins and outs.I've always managed to ride out the bad periods, and control it (to some extent) with diet, exercise, limted alcohol intake and a good routine. I try to get plenty of sleep, but thats a bit hard. Ever since I as 16 I've woken up at 3.30 am. I'm not sure why. And over the years its been added to by a 1am and a 5am wake up. Its so consistent I could literally set my clock by it.

Anyway. For the past few weeks I've been doing the up-down, round and round thing. Its sucked. to put it minorly. But it all came to a head about a week ago.

For the uninitiated, I work with animals. Its a great job, but it can be quite emotionally challenging at times too. I had a group of animals that were destined to die, and we needed some blood from them. The easiest way to take the quantity of blood we needed, is to anaesthetise the animal, take the blood from the heart, and kill it immediately. No muss, no fuss. And its something I've done lots of times before. Well, this time it failed. For some reason, they would not take to the anaesthetic. Every time I got the needle in, they'd move, or kick, or wriggle. I hated it. No matter what angle I tried, no matter how I held the needle, how I supported the head (so the gas was unobstructed), they moved. I tried aspect in every combination. Still, they moved. This went on for 3 hours. I was a mess by the end of it.

I chucked the worlds biggest tanty. I was screaming and swearing and crying. I ended up yelling at my coworkers to finish the job, and literally running out of the facility. I sat in the change rooms, door shut, lights off, in the corner. I cried, for I don't know how long. Not little weepy bits, but gut wrenching, wracking sobs. I ended up making myself feel sick, so I tried to vomit for about 10 minutes more. To no avail. All I could do was spit up something that tasted like vinegar.

Eventually I got changed into a fresh uniform. I was so wrecked I could no longer bear to wear the other one, even though there was nothing really wrong with it. I slunk back into the facility and apologised to some people that I'd yelled at, and went and hid somewhere quiet, isolated and dark.

Later that day, my boss came to see me, and asked me up to HR. I nearly shat myself, but I did end up crying again. Before I'd even gone anywhere. I headed up and had the talk. You can tell how it would have gone. Basically they asked me how I thought they would be feeling about what happened. I replied (very honestly) that, if it was anything like how I felt, they'd be acutely embarrassed.

*Insert more tears here*

So the next question went along the lines of 'is there something going on?' To which I started with the gut wrenching cries again. If I had've kept breathing, I would have been absolutely hysterical. As it was, we were in an office in the middle of admin and, despite my earlier outburst, I still didn't want everybody knowing I was sick.

I told my boss I had bipolar and it hasn't been playing nice. Both her and the HR lady were great about it. Very supportive. They told me to go home immediately after the interview, and take the next day off if I wanted to.

I ended up going straight to Gloria jeans for a gigantic muffin and a coffee. I dithered about a little, before swinging past the doctors to ask about their mental health care. Its bulk billed (meaning I don't have to pay any of it), but I'd have to get a referral first, and it would be a half hour wait to see a doctor. I declined.

Mum rang me that night. Since she works in the mental health field, she knew what was going on. She was asking me questions about my sleep habits, spending, eating, exercise, routine and thoughts. She ended up deciding that I wasn't a danger to myself, but she's still worried, and has been calling pretty much every night to see how I am.

I did go back to see the doctor on Friday though. Went up to the counter and asked if there was a doctor who would be best to talk to about mental health problems. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dummer just suggested I wait for the next doctor. I wasn't too keen on that idea, since it was a bulk billing medical centre and about half of my experiences with doctors are to get me in, sign the sheet (so they can get paid) and get me out.

I lucked out though. I got a great lady doctor, and told her about what had happened. She asked the same questions that Mum did. We talked about keeping to a routine, eating right, sleeping better etc. She told me to really limit my spending. Apparently thats a big problem with bipolar peeps. And she gave me a mental health crisis line that I can call any time I need to. We discussed the panic attacks I'd been having. And we discussed my sleep patterns too. I asked if she could give me anything to help me sleep, and she said no. She didn't want to prescribe me with anything because she didn't want to be messing with drugs and such, when I was likely to end up on something. She did give me a natural remedy that I could try.

Out to the pharmacy, I asked about that particular remedy. The pharmacist recommended something else, but they didn't have it in stock. I went to another place. That pharmacist (c*nt) said herbal remedies were all a bunch of bollocks, and without treating the underlying problem, nothing would work. Another place, another pharmacist, recommended the same as the first. By this stage I'd spent about an hour just looking at sleep aids, so I had an idea of what to look for, and had already come to that conclusion. I managed to price shop around, and found it for $10 less than most other places.

I have made an appointment with the psychiatrist for the end of March. It is quite a while away, but I should be ok. I have boot camp going on at the moment, and I'm muchly excited about it. Training with the best trainers I know, and some fantastic people. Its outdoors, and something different each night. So it will keep me quite happy and interested for a bit. The sleep tablets are starting to work. On the first night I skipped the 1am wake up. And just two nights ago, I slept straight through til 5.30. Its not much, but its something. I know I'm likely to be on these for quite a while. I have 10 years of fucked up sleep to retrain my brain from.

Thursday, January 14, 2010


Bad day today. Going to docs tomorrow. Need help.

Tuesday, January 05, 2010


I've had enough. Enough of people, noise, crowds, lonliness, smells. I've had enough. I need a break. So I went away for a weekend. Hightailed it to the mountains.

Straight after work on Friday (yes, I had to work new years day) I headed out to the mountains. I stopped at Katoomba for lunch. Well, I tried to anyway. The place I stopped at had none of the staff turn up, and they were only doing breakfast. After a 25 minute wait for service, I left and stopped further up the road, at Mount Victoria, then headed further afield to my stay at Hampton.

I arrived around 3pm, settled in to read magazines and call people. The room wasn't much. But for $50 a night, it was better than I expected. 2 beds , a bar fridge, a TV, a kettle, a shower and a toilet. And only a very few cockroaches. I picked the bed that was about 2 inches higher, and up against the window. It was like sleeping on a wooden board, and I didn't realise until the morning that I left that the other was softer. Still, it was quiet, and the bed was up against the window, so sleeping was ok.

I spent about an hour on the phone, calling family. Just for a chat. Made myself a coffee and just chilled out.

I went up to the bar for dinner that first night. Selected the seafood basket, with salad instead of chips. I got deep fried calamari rings, a battered and fried crab stick, crumbed and fried prawn cocktails, and fish nuggets (that resembled peni)... you guessed it, Fried. And the salad was simply chopped up iceberg lettuce, toomato and cucumber. Ah well, country food.

I did strike up a conversation with some of the locals, and got some good pointers on places to go to get photos. Which led to this particular beauty the next day.

I spent the night watching TV and doping puzzles in magazines. I had nothing to do, so I did a full body moisturise after my shower. I never do that! I never have the time. And I did face moisturising both morning and night too. Something else I never get to do.

The next day (Saturday) I headed out to the Jenolan Caves. I love this place, but think I've had enough of it to last me a while. I parked up on the furthest car park and went for a walk up the mountain. 5 steps in and I'm huffing and puffing. But I quickly warmed up, and it was so worth it.

Then had to trek all the way back down. Halfway, I got distracted, and went up these.

Which, as it turned out, led over the great gaping maw you saw earlier. You can see the lookout where the photo was taken in this?

Can't see it? Here's a zoomed shot...

Half an hour later I arrived at the bottom of the trek. Sweaty and puffing. Headed into the ticket office and went to purchase my passes for the cave tours. Only to be told that the tour I really, really wanted to do was sold out. *sigh* So I decided to head out to Oberon at the end of the day instead.

This in mind, I did 2 tours of some rather stunning caves, a little bushwalking, had a sandwich, and just chilled out. trust me when I say, this was difficult to limit myself to puttin up just 5 photos here. If you want to check out more, they're on farcebook.

I jumped in the car mid-afternoon and headed out in the direction (I prayed) of Oberon. And, my what a hick town that was. I love country people. Headed to a cafe for a cappuccino in a chipped mug. Did some more puzzles. Went for a wander up the main street, and back down. Went into both supermarkets, bought some chocolate. Walked up the main street, and back down again. Checked out the menu's at the pub and the pizza joint. Walked up the main street, and back down again. Rang my sister. Got her to google restaurants in Oberon, and discovered that the RSL was a little further down the road. The menu there was much better. I ended up picking the lamb cutlets with tomato and onion gravy and seasonal vegetables.

What I got was 2 lamb cutlets, crumbed and deep fried, with a random rasher of bacon draped across them, dropped on top of bacon/cheese mashed potato, and smothered in gravy. The vegetables were peas, carrot and cauliflower, with the tiniest spoonful of gluggy cheese sauce. With a little effort, that could have been an awesome meal! What is it with country people and their need to deep fry shit?

That night I headed back to the motel, settled in with my magazine and watched tv.

Next morning was check out time. Packed my shit, said goodbye to the guys at the hotel, and hit the road. Normally a 2 and a half hour drive, I took 5 and a half to get home. I stopped everywhere I'd ever wanted to. Every place I'd ever gone 'that could be interesting' but kept going past, this time I stopped.

I visited several historic sights, went to a few lookouts of the mountains, had coffee and cake at Katoomba and stopped for lunch at Hazelbrook. At each stop I pulled out my magazine and sat there for at least half an hour after I'd finished eating. On my trawl through Katoomba, I managed to get some really nice shots of the gardens in the rain.

It was lovely, but altogether too short. Now I'm tired, and my soul hurts again.