WELL HELLO, CRAZY NOISE

WELL HELLO, CRAZY NOISE!!
> THANKS FOR CHECKING IN.

SO YOU THINK WE SHOULD SLICE OUR ARMS AND BLEED, JUST TO PROVE WE ARE ALIVE?
> okay.

SO WE SHOULD SLIT OUR NECK ACROSS ITSELF TO SHOW OUR OWN STRENGTH AND DETERMINATION?
> sounds great.

OR MAYBE I CAN JUST JUMP INTO TRAFFIC, DRIVE INTO THE ONCOMING, OR SHOOT OURSELVES OFF THE CLIFF.
>  perfect plan.

_____________________________________________

did you disagree?  because I didn’t?

I suspect tomorrow will be fine.

but I’m seriously running out of “bad days” that don’t get logged as “last days”.

____________________________________________

SEE ALSO:

the Final Day is ideal,

desired,

perfect,

heavenly,

HOPE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

please allow it to come soon … or even better ASAP…..

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work nigh resulted in self-injury

I was lying on my side, repeating a phrase with which was I was far too familiar. at the “ch” sound in the collection of words, I felt the top of my tongue bounce of the roof of my mouth in a familiar pattern. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

I couldn’t breathe out of my nose, and I could barely transmit breathes past the sounds I was chanting. my eyes burned, and I could feel the air against the entire surface of my eyeballs. tears from the topside eye flowed into the lower. snot was dribbling out of my nostrils, passing just above my upper lip and down onto the couch.

but I didn’t cut. I didn’t pull out any hair. I only hit my head a few time. I didn’t scratch or burn or bite, or anything else that I wanted so terribly to do. I didn’t even drink. I Disappeared for a little bit to calm down, also known as purposefully disassociating. then I slowly rose and took a klonopin. I had no reason to be alive, and even less reason to be awake. I actually had a say-so in the latter, so I worked towards a goal — Disappear until tomorrow.

as I swallowed the pill, a shot of memories ran past my mind as I recalled how what was previously such a wonderful day pushed me into this dark, hateful place….

Continue reading

self-mutilation and suicidal ideations  while in your 30s

so, here I am. awake. despite the begiing and pleading and bargaining with Great Powers-That-Be.

and I forgot to make my SI pack to bring to work. erg.

what 30-year-old still struggles with self-injury and personal inadaquecies quite like this?  I mean, I know SI isn’t actually something that’s restricted to a particular age group or anything, and it can some in any forms for any persons.  but really. who in their thirties is still getting fresh scars…?  by now, there’s better coping skills and the like. how am I still using a blade to deal?

and though it’s mainly becoming cutting, it’s not and rarely was restricted to just that.  hair-pulling and hitting are actually my most common; they leave minimal marks and require no additional tools.
I think that aas I’ve gotten older, as I’ve become less religious and black-and-white, I’ve come to idealize suicide even more.  while ypunger and strong in my faith, religion said suicide was wrong, and thus out was.  then I got to a point wherein I believed that it should be discouraged, but still an option.  these days, as stated in a previous post, I’m almost confused as to why I haven’t really done it yet.  time changes your perspective, yes; but in what direction?

that traffic sure looks mighty fine

why the fuck did I think I could do this?

over the weekend, in an attempt to offer me advice and encouragement, Brian commeneyed, “it’s just like school. so you know what you have to start doing again, right?”  I responded, with mostly sincerity, “cutting…?”
after laughing at the delivery and despite himself, he disagreed. “study.”

and he’s right. except there’s no homework examples to be bringing home; it all must be learnt in the lab. and the entire process is very specific to this firm. they way they have certain accounts broken up, etc.

I can tell my supervisor was very frustrated with my performance this afternoon. I royally fucked up shit. I mean, we got it sorted out. but still, I forced him to have to do twice as much work on a task he shouldn’t have been having to do any.

they want me to become a notary public. this was not mentioned in the job interview. I don’t think I can, on account of the DUIs.

I almost walked in front of a speeding car this afternoon. on purpose. is that being parasuicidal again? I mean, I obviously didn’t do it. but there was a legit jerk in my step wherein I had to remind myself that supposedly suicide is not the answering.

which is fair. because I think suicide is the question. and for me, the answer should be “yes”.
instead, I’ll go home and cut a lot. or drink. (I try not to combine them anymore.) I also intend to make an SI travel pack again — blade, bandaids, and tiny neosporin. stays in the purse. for emergencies of the self-hatred kind.

my mad world

all around me are familiar faces,
worn out places, worn out faces.
bright and early for the daily races
going nowhere, going nowhere.
their tears are filling up their glasses.
no expression; no expression.
hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow.
no tomorrow; no tomorrow.
sorry about cutting.  about saying how maybe I was done.  guess I didn’t actually say I was.  because I’m not.
have great night.
see you tomorrow.  just with more lacerations.
children waiting for the day they feel good.
happy birthday; happy birthday.
and to feel the way that every child should;
sit and listen, sit and listen.
but honestly, I will be here tomorrow. so please, don’t call the cops….
I have enough trouble lined up with them as is.

a2z: Lacerations

April 2015’s Blogging A to Z:
Lacerations

 

Brian might have a job in Minnesota soon.  (oh shit.  yeah, I need to update y’all about that.  my bad.)  so I was thinking about the different job opportunities I could seek out up there.  I’ve a diverse career and volunteer history (in no particular order): photographer, office assistant manager, comic artist, product suppliers manager for a expos, book seller, photographer, interviewer, customer service manager, security guard, general retail/sales, photography studio manager, heliport assistant manager, volunteer coordinator for expos, canoe instructor, writer, equipment specialist and manager, librarian, etc.  some of these were concurrent, some were not.  some were for a summer, some many years.  but I have enough experience in each of them to get another job in the same position or at least similar field.

so then I was thinking about things I couldn’t do.  immediately I went to anything involving balance or memory, and food is also a no-go.  so of course, that meant “no way” for the restaurant industry.  in fact, I really couldn’t make it there.  either A] I couldn’t dress the part to work in a nicer restaurant; or B] I couldn’t dress the part to work in a lower-class burger joint (think Twin Peaks or Hooters or something).  why not the latter?  because of my scars.

I’ve written a lot in my LiveJournal/DreamWidth about my self-injury — cutting, hair-pulling, burning, scratching, biting, bruising, head bashing, starving, over-dosing, etc.  I try not to go into it too much here, as my being too open about my cutting is what ended up in an unnecessary hospital trip that cost me over $4000 of non-insured expenses (which I actually finally just paid all of off in 2014!).

but as they are a part of who I am, both past and present — and honestly, probably still in the future –, I can’t just ignore it all.

I’m a cutter.  I’m a self-harmer.  not was; am.  the scars haven’t stopped.  they continue.

they’ve diminished in quantity and frequency; but they make up for it in quality and frightfulness.

I started wearing what I call my “scar tape” again.  there’s a ton of gels and tapes and screams that help.  but I have my favourite.  though now it’s old and hard to find, and my not even be effective anymore.  but I’m wearing that again.

but because of these damn things, I can’t even get a job as a waitress.  in the past, I hid my cutting.  only inner thighs and breasts.  but these days, I don’t think I even care anymore.  since November, new ones have been added.  and they’re on stomach.  right across it.  so the Twin Peaks belly-revealing uniforms are out.  and the Hooters short skirts?  they’d definitely show off too many.

it’s funny how my drinking limits my mobility for a job, my anxiety limits my socialness, my self-injury limits my outfits, and my nerves limits my dexterity.

I need a job where I don’t have to have any certain appearance, am not expected to go anywhere to distant, and don’t have to have patience or proper mobility.

can I, like, apply to be a log or something?

 

Lacerations

word vomit update

dude, so much has been going on lately.  I’ll guess I’ll do a brief, list-formed summary, as I’ve much to do.

 

to start it off….

I had a seizure a little over two weeks ago.  5am, I go to the bathroom to fill my water bottle.  I get dizzy en route, nothing major at first.  but by the time I’m at the sink, I can tell it’s going to be a big one.  so I put the toilet lid down and sit.  next thing I know, I’m balled up on the floor in Brian’s arms with him distantly calling out to me.  I can’t speak; my tongue is heavy.  I can’t hug or tap him to let him know I’m fine, because neither my arms nor legs will move.  and I’m still dizzy, so my head is heavy and wobbly.  and now suddenly, I’m nauseous (which, by the way, is one of the most difficult words to ever have to spell).

I finally respond, just barely, that I need to puke.  so he helps me lean over the toilet, and I let go.  by the time I’m done vomiting, I can actually communicate.  “what the fuck?” was, of course, my first words.

“I think you had a seizure.”

“…a … I what?”

“a seizure.  I think you just had a seizure.”  apparently, when I sat down on the toilet, I passed out and collapsed between it and the tub.  the sound woke up, but he figured I just had a slight fall.  then he hears a repeating thumping noise.  he goes to see and finds me between the tub and toilet.  when he finally pulls me out, my eyes were rolling in the back of my head and I was convulsing (thus the repeated thumping).  he said it was a good 30-45 minutes between his calling out to me and my actually responding.

he called into work for me, telling what happened, and that I’d be in when I could.  my boss said stay home all day, lol.  so I did.  and I slept on the bathroom until 1pm or so because everytime I sat up, I got so dizzy I threw up again.  even while lying on the floor, I was dizzy.

everyone finally convinces me to go to the doctor.  well, he wants to send me to a neurologist.  when he asked if I’d been to one before, I answered, “not really.  I got an MRI done a week after a stroke I had about six years ago.  but never a neurologist.”  that was apparently the wrong thing to say, because he then insisted I see a head doc.  that appointment is in two weeks now.  in the meantime, he put me (back) on anti-seizure medication, which are also mood stabilizers.

yet still meanwhile, this past Monday, I had all the dizzy and nauseous symptoms again.  though this time, there was no severe passing out or convulsions.  so I guess that’s an improvement.

and just think: this is only the first fucking topic of my oh-so wonderful Life Updates.

….ugh.

 

DUI

talked to a real lawyer today (not a public defender who blows you off and doesn’t give a fuck about you but takes your money anyway).  he said things are going to be bad, but possible not as bad as we thought.

said lawyer had me get all kinds of paperwork and write up several reports.  I’ve gotten lots of that done already.

apparently, “this is going to cost,” he said.  “but not money; don’t worry about that.  since you work at a library, I’ll have you do some volunteer work for a non-profit I’m involved in.  you’ll work in archives with newspapers and stuff.”  dude, this guy has no idea that this is one of the things I actually want to do for the rest of my life??

anyway.  another thing I learned from him is the interpretation of the license paperwork.  apparently I will not be able to drive a vehicle as of March 15th (that’s not this Sunday, but the next).  I can apply for a Restricted License, which will probably allow me to go to work, selected medical appointments (like my monthly visit you’ll soon read about), and maybe even the grocery store.  but otherwise, that’ll be it.

I’m not sure how terribly upset I am about that.  everytime I’ve gotten into the driver’s seat lately, I’ve wanted to take it off a bridge, into high-speed on-coming traffic, into a concrete wall, etc.  so I’m thinking I really shouldn’t be behind the driver’s wheel too much anyway.  (and also, it’s not like I go anywhere or do anything anymore anyhow. (and that was a lot of “any-“s….) )

 

medication

as per my psychiatrist’s and Brian’s request (the latter of which was not shared with me until my psych pulled it out with a few teeth), I contacted Townsend about going back to just the doctor, not the bullshit therapy too.

they said it’s been too long, but I could look into seeing a clinic that adopts the Townsend perspective.  so I contacted them.

$250 per visit (usually monthly), and they don’t take insurance.  I can, however, make the claim myself.  apparently most people get at least something back.

mind you, this excludes the medication itself.  O_o  if you recall, they had me on seven different meds, most of which I was taking twice a day and two even three times a day.  one of which, additionally so, was over $150 for only 30 days.  O_O

so yeah, all of the fucking money — which I don’t fucking have.

 

jobs

Brian got his first substitution job yesterday.  so he’s teaching three hours at UL on Thursday nights and will work with 8th graders for about two weeks while the teacher is out on maternity leave.

as of right now, I still have a job.  however, in a two-week period, six people at SLCC were let go (one of which was a coworker here in the library!).  we’re not technically in a layoffs, but I think they’re preparing for it.

I had my mid-year review with Katherine, and she’s very pleased with my improvements.  I also had a chance to explain myself (regarding my boredom), and she agreed to give me back a few of my old duties, plus help out Bill with a bunch of his.  so I’ve been extra busy at work, and I’m fucking loving it.

while helping Bill out, he mentioned how I could probably grow into a great technical writer.  so I’m looking into free technical writing classes.  sure, it won’t really be able to go on my resume.  but I could honestly say I have knowledge and practice of it.  ::shrugs::  it’s a direction.

I’m also considering trying out for the Cracked.com writing team.  I’m just not sure I’d ever find the correct tone of humour they want.  but hey, maybe the editors could direct me some in that….  anyway, just researching right now — nothing too serious.

 

moolah

I’ve filed for a determent in paying back my student loans.  I sent in my paychecks, my hospital bills, my credit bills, etc.  all the different reasons as to why I’m poor as fuck (other than evidence of my not being able to balance my income with Brian’s lifestyle).  so yeah, crossing my fingers on that.

meanwhile, I created a nice little spreadsheet to better track my finances.  I think, because of my situation, it will work better for me than those most people create.  this is not a budget, but more like a log.  it focuses more on what I currently have than on what I spent where — which is what I need currently.

 

electronics

I don’t know what the righteous fuck is going on, but everything that plugs into the wall and/or runs on batteries around me has been committing suicide — my car battery dies at least once very other week; the phone my dad is letting me borrow won’t hold a charge, no matter the battery (he bought extra) nor charger combinations I’ve used; my PC can’t play most of my games anymore; Brians’ computer has been randomly shutting down recently; the internet has been unusually slow; even my iPod is trying to give out.  I mean, fuck, IT came to look at my work computer, and now even that fucker is on the fritz!!  BAH.

I’m ready to just go live in the woods — no cars, no bikes, no liquor, no people, etc.

 

Bad Habits

so guess who’s eating disorder is coming back pretty strong?  oh yeah, this girl.  I’m restricting, though not terribly so yet.  but the fear and guilt and obsession are over-powering.  when Brian and I went to dinner for Date Nite Tuesday, I just stared at my food for a while before I could eat.  “oh, I’m just letting it cool down, is all,” I told him when he inquired.  in reality, I was preparing myself for the barrage of self-hate I was about to both experience and inflict.

I’ve returned to one of my homey ED sites.  I’m posting regularly, participating in challenges, etc.  hell, I even hosted my own mini challenge at one point.

I try to keep my caloric intake between 500 and 1000 — so I’m not actually starving myself, but also so I can minimize the self-hate.

I’m checking the scale every morning for sure, and typically everytime I use my home bathroom, and most nights.  I only record the morning one, though, as I know food and exercise influence weight and body fat.

when I was sick Monday, I got excited Tuesday morning at how low the scale read.  I knew it wasn’t going to last; but I basked in the joy I felt for the day.

it’s no secret: I’m overweight.  I’m not “fat” in the medical sense; but I am overweight.  I’ve and average of 34% body fat and 25.7 BMI.  so I’m not medically fat, but I’m bigger than both what is healthy and what I want.

anyway.  I’ve started obsessing with that.  I’m checking my ED forums and chats at work on my iPod every often.

meanwhile, today, I packed some extra bandages and a second razor to work.  I keep a little blade in my wallet all times, for “emergencies”.  a few smaller bandaids too.  in those cases, just a knick or two will siffice.  however, today was a Wound day, as in I snatched some of the larger bandage pads from my bathroom and snuck them along with me, just in case.

yeah, my SI hasn’t really officially returned (I’ve only just once or twice in the last few months, and only one session of hair-pulling).  but it’s teasing it.

 

so the good news!

fuck, this is all depressing.  so what good things have been going on?

well, as stated, I’ve picked up extra assignments at work.  and I’ve really impressed Bill with my timeliness, my skills, and products’ outputs.  of course, there’s a few tweaks to be made along the way so that they fit his overall picture better.  but typically, he’s greatly pleased with what I bring him.

I’ve updated my resume.  I also cleaned it up some.  I had the same boring style from back when I started college.  it was time for something fresh and more executive-like.  I’m still tweaking it, as the style is forcing the font to be small (or maybe I’m still including too much shit on it — which is actually what I think is going on).  anyway, if anyone wants to be a sweetheart and review it for me to provide suggestions, I’d fucking adore you for it!!  I think this link will take you to it: Parker-James-Christine_337-349-3009 .  that one specifically is for a generic office manager job.  like I said, I have a lot in it I can remove.  and then I’m going to edit it further for the technical writing jobs.  I’ll hit up people again to review that one.  (also, please let me know if the formatting open fonky for you!!)

ugh, and then I need to create a portfolio.  I need a collection of shit I’ve done — papers I’ve written, instruction manuals I’ve designed, projects I’ve completed, ideas I’ve birthed, stats I’ve achieves, etc.  any suggestions?? 😀

another good thing is getting my cat back.  :3   Zero had been at my parents’ place for over three weeks.  well, last weekend, I finally found the time and umph to snag him back home.  and OMG, was that cat fucking glued to me.  XD  I loved it, but at the same time it was like, “kitteh, I haz werk to do.”  so yeah, having my little butthead back has been nice.

Sean’s still crashing at our place.  without sharing too much of his personal life, his job is dragging their ass on paying him, so he’s in a tight spot.  between my falling apart and him having no money, it behooves us both to keep him here, lol.  but the lack of money really has him both depressed and concerned at the moment.  so in order to distract each of us, we watch various movies and shows together sometimes.  one such movie was Under the Skin.  if you’re going to look into it, do it as home as this is movie is amazing but sooooo NSFW, lol!!  all of the nekked Scarlett Johansson.  I mean, sexalicious.  but totally not something you want your boss to see you checking out while on the clock, lol.  (though if you do ever watch it without reading the spoilers first, let me know what your theory/take on the movie is.  :D)

I can’t find my Manifesto — the file in which I wrote up my short- and long-term goals, daily plans, virtues of life, etc.  I’m not sure this is a bad thing.  maybe it’s signifying a need to start over.  so I am.  a new file, a new outlook, etc.  and real goals too — such as get the fuck outta Louisiana….

ah, speaking of Louisiana — the recent weather.  it was finally warming up some.  until today, wherein it sneauxed.  ugh.  I suppose this is what most would actually just call a flurry or something.  but whatever, ice solidified and fell from the sky.  sneaux in Louisiana is so fucking uncommon, there’s even a gaddamn Wikipedia article about it!  XDDDD

 

so I guess that’s basically all that’s going on in my life.  sorry for the word vomit, but y’all know by now that’s kinda my style.