Thursday, March 31, 2011
Bye?
Due to my lack of posts, facebook is the way to find me. Old friends, send me your email address to phishez_rule@hotmail.com, and I'll add you. Don't try to find me, my profile is on lockdown.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Jazz
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
WEEKEND
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.
WEEKDAYS
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.
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.
WEEKEND
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.
WEEKDAYS
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.
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