my life as I know it..

I’m absolutely dying for a way to express myself right now. I feel like I have so many pent up emotions and no way to get them out. When I was younger I was quite a good drawer. I won a few contests and was told by numerous art teachers I had an amazing talent. I’ve tried picking up a pencil and just letting it flow but nothing is coming out anymore. It’s like the talent I may (or may not) have had has dried up. I used to do a lot of digital collages and stuff. but I can’t seem to do that much anymore either. I just feel like I’ve lost all that I used to have. I’m not particularly depressed about it. Just disappointed and frustrated. I feel like I have things that are just bottling up with no way out. Words just don’t seem to be enough anymore. I can’t find the words to describe how I’m feeling lately. I feel so muffled and confused. Maybe not muffled. I can’t think of the right word(s). Like life has a haze over it or something. I’ve felt this way so long that I don’t remember what it’s like to feel any other way. I don’t remember being able to think clearly. I don’t remember a month that I had no headaches or pain. I don’t remember a time that I was happy for more then a day or two at a time. I sometimes have to wonder if coming off the medications is the right thing to do? I’m fairly convinced they are the problem. Does that make any sense? Is it possible for anti-depressants to make you depressed?

I talked to a girl at work yesterday. I know her face and talk to her all the time. She’s one of the sprint supervisors or something. Anyways I was microwaving my soup and turned to grab a spoon and suddenly felt sick and dizzy and felt like I was gonna collapse. I musta grabbed the counter or something. She was sitting at a table in the luchroom a few feet from me and we were just talking about work related stuff, and weather, etc. Just polite chit chat type thing. Anyways I suddenly felt like I was gonna pass out and I don’t know what I did/said or whatever but she let out a half scream jumped up and grabbed me and pulled me to a chair. She got some paper towel and wet it in cold water and passed it to me. She asked if I was ok. I said yes I think and just kinda explained about the headaches and neck/back/etc pain and soreness/stiffness. She when white. I asked her what was wrong. She quietly said “my best friend died 3 days ago in alberta… from meningitis”, before she died she had similar symptoms”… That made me think too things. 1) Fuck why did i have to just put her through that! (was the first) and 2nd) (of course) was shit… is that my problem?..

Anyways we talked a bit more about the headaches and she asked if I had any theories on what the causes where. I figured what the hell. Most of the supervisors there now I have some medical type problems and some of the other employees know some stuff. So I told her I was on anti-depressants and that the headaches started roughly 2-3 years ago about the time I was put on the current anti-depressant I was on. I said that I wondered if it was causing or making them worse. Told her I was currently weaning off them. She agreed with me. She said a year ago this time she was about 200lbs and completely depressed (I can remember it too… she was much bigger and she just always looked so sad and down) she said she was on anti-depressants. She found that they had no effect for her so she stopped them. She found that it was very situational for her and that when she got out of it things started to look better and she was now doing pretty good.

Anyways it’s just more things to think about I guess. I have so many pent up emotions. So much energy that needs to be released. I don’t neccesarily mean physical energy. Well some I suppose. I just have no idea how to release it. How to relax and how to feel pain free and comfortable. I crave it. Odd as that may sound. I just need to relax so bad. Even sleeping I’m not relaxed. I tossed so much last night I litteraly wrapped the blankets around myself several times. I smacked my elbow on the corner of the stand beside my bed. I knocked the dog (who wasn’t supposed to be there anyways..) on the ground. My pillows ended up on the ground. I sleep through the night. At least 6 hours strait. But it’s not resting for me. I feel as tired when I wake up as I did when I went to bed.

I wish when I was living at Erins that I had taken the magazines that were in her closet. She asked me if I wanted them for anything otherwise she was gonna chuck them… (There was a large box full of YM, Seventeen, and a bunch of others…). I really wish I had of taken them. They’d make great collage material! Anyway, anyone in the halifax are have a bunch of old magazines they wanna get rid of? Let me know… I’d really like to start a paper journal using words and collages and pictures (like real photo’s I’ve taken/take.). Something creative that doesn’t require a lot of drawing.

God, it sucks I never really have felt I’ve had a place of my own even when I was out *technically* on my own. It was Melissa’s place, Erins place or with Brad. They never felt like my place…. just a temporary home till the next one. I haven’t felt at home since I was in Calgary. I’ve felt for almost 8 years now like I’m just borrowing time and space. I feel like I’m not wanted. I have no idea why. My parents never ever tried to make me feel that way. Sure in the heat of the moment in the middle of a fight things get/got said that hurt. My family is very passionate. When we love we love unconditionally. But when we are mad watch out. Things get said that are really damaging and hard to forget. Things go flying. People get hurt physically and emotionally. Physically never on purpose. I mean no one technically abuses anyone. I don’t really ever remember getting a spank.

Maybe once or twice. I bit my mother hard on the ass. So hard that I drew blood. She slapped my ass then cried herself to sleep over it. And once when I was about 13 or so I was fighting with my mom and called her a “fucking bitch” and said I wished she was dead (boy did I ever regret that not 3 months later…) and my father who I have never seen hurt a fly hauled off and slapped my ass and old me I was to go to my room till he decided I could come out. This was a guy that never said anything damaging to me in my life and till that point had never laid a hand on me for anything other then a hug. Later he came into my room and appoligized with tears in his eyes saying he had been under a lot of stress and he was so sorry. Of course I forgave him. He’s my father and he’s always been there for me. I’m daddy’s little girl and always have been. My father and I have shared a special bond forever and over the next few years it just strengthed all the more no matter how much people tried to tear us apart. It’s nothing bad. Just a normal. Father daughter bond. But it’s been strengthened by time and by circumstances neither of us ever should have had to go through but had we not then it wouldn’t have been the same.

So yes, when we fight… Fuck we fight! And emotionally it’s hell. It’s the type of thing you still cry about years later when you think about it. Yet you can think of the good along with it and it makes it all worth while. I have the most loving family if a bit strange. But who cares. I love them to death. If you know me you might wonder why I haven’t brought my brother into this yet. Well my brother and I have a much different relationship then most brothers and sisters… yet the same. He’s 14. I’m 25. So there is a big age difference of course. I always wanted a brother or sister. I was devastated a few times when failed pregnancies happened with my mom. So when my Nan called from Canada (when were in Germany at the time) saying that a girl mom when to school with had a young daughter who was about to turn 18 and was pregnant but wanted to consider a private adoption for the baby and Barb, her mom, thought about my parents. We all were ecstatic. We wrote back and forth with Shelley. And before I knew it (obviously there was much planning going on that I was oblivious to at the time) my mom was on the airplane to Nova Scotia and then she was calling saying I have a baby brother named Denton Joel, which I picked out to honor her baby brother who died when he was 4 months old of leukemia which was always fatal then. So Denton was much anticipated and much loved.

And still is. It’s just that he is not your typical 14 year old. One, by all outward appearances he seems to be maybe 10 or 11. Two, once you get past that and talk to him some and interact with him he seems more like a 8 or 9 year old with the odd glimpse of teenager and adult thrown in to totally mix you up. He’s very loving. He’d very passionate. He’s very violent when he’s really mad. He has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, Attention Deficit Disorder and over the last 14 years has been diagnosed with many other disorders that he has symptoms of to varying degrees but not totally… Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Tourette’s Syndrome/Disorder and unspecified Brian Injury(ies) from/happening at birth. So the poor child has more letters after his name then most doctors… We get along ok some times. Other times it’s impossible and you feel like beating your head (or his) against a wall. For someone with no other “problems” a child like him would be trying. Through in a few mood/depressive disorders and you have a recipe for disaster. But on top of all of that, we have a great love and grudging respect for each other and are always there when we need each other. I’d do anything for him. He couldn’t be more of a brother to me if we were twins…

Why am I writing all this? Well a few reasons. One it’s hard to read stuff in a journal like this when you have no idea of the persons background. You never always know exactly what a person is talking about… And well I just need to get it out there. I need to write. I don’t care about what. So I might as well write something that has meaning to me right?

My childhood before my brother came along was typical yet atypical. I grew up in a typical military family in an atypical surrounding on a small canadian military base in the middle of Germany. I had and lost a number of friends due to our secluded surroundings and normal military life. At that age (5-11) you don’t tend to keep in touch with friends that move… I was into everything. Swimming lessons, bowling, horseback riding lessons, soccer, baseball (or t-ball and then softball), figure skating, badminton after school… I’m sure I’m missing other things… oh can’t forget brownies :D. I spent my time running around with friends, playing in the Black Forrest (yes literally in the Black Forest of fairytales and stories… cool eh? I thought so!) And playing in/around bunkers, hangers, planes, tanks and other typical things most army brats get too do. Going to air shows, watching movies 3 months after they come out in the US and Canada. And going to the local bakery for yummy german pastries and candies. Or going to a Gasthaus in Hugie for some Pomme Frits and “ein kleiner Kola”. We’d play hide and seek in the old Q’s (PMQ – Private Military Quaters). Or playing on the dirt mound in the playground (an old bunker covered in dirt and a little grass here and there that we’d bike down and sled down in the winter if there was snow).

We did the typical american TV thing but only one channel (CBC from Ottawa, about 2 weeks late) or taped cartoons that friends in Canada sent us that we couldn’t get, or one or two channels from the UK. I can’t honestly remember if we got German tv in the PMQ’s but I know we did when we lived in Hügelsheim.

After Denton, we were living in Calgary and I was going to junior high and high school. Most of it was fairly typical teenage canadian life in a large city. Then things started to go wrong. My mom (this is the 3 months after part from before…) was told she likely had breast cancer and they wanted to do a biopsy and start chemo. Thank god the biopsy did not come out the way the doc expected and was actually not cancerous… Still needed to be removed which was a fairly large and complicated operation. It compromised something or other and had to come out. So we get through that ok. Then comes a second scare. Again non cancerous and this time it could stay for the time being but now she has to have 6 month mammograms as apossed to the usual 2 years (before 40). Then the world just seemed to fall apart. I wont say what happened. For my own sake and for the same of others involved it was long complicated legal battle that had a lot of finger pointing and many hurt feelings. In the end we lost our house, my fathers job, and no one in the community save a few close friends wanted us there. Sadly, we did nothing wrong as it all came out a year after we left. Someone else did it. And confessed. Too late. We’d lost everything except our family and a few close friends. I lost a lot of friends. But I gained one close one that stuck with me all the way and was my savior. She is and always will be one of my best friends even though I really have no idea where she is now. I tried to keep in touch for a while but I’ve never been that good at it. Was it her fault or mine that we lost track… both I’d say. But she knows where we are (well knows what province) and knows my parents names I think. I’d be much easier to find then she seems to be. Shauna if your out there… tell me! (I doubt that she’d see this but who knows right?).

So wounded we moved to Digby to start over. I finished school somewhere no one wanted me. I felt so uncared for and unloved at that point in time. My Nan became my savior. I was sucidical and really depressed and if she hadn’t have stood by me I’d be long gone. I managed to pull myself together (most people other then my Nan had no idea anything was wrong I think… maybe Brad. Maybe not at that point. I don’t know.). I worked a year at McDonalds and decided I wanted to go back to school. I got my student loan approved, was accepted by the school and moved in with Melissa, one of the few friends I made in Digby. Then things fell apart again and the school decided at the last minute after I was approved for a student loan and had moved that they didn’t have enough students for that class. I couldn’t stick around till the next year. I just didn’t make enough money. At that point Brad and I were just starting to go out. I don’t remember if I moved right to Fredericton with him or when home first. I think I went home and then to Fredericton later. Fredericton was a mess. It was one of the lowest points in my life. I was so overwhelmed with things. I was so depressed and so full of anxiety. It was doomed from the start. I wouldn’t leave the apartment. I became scared of my own shadow. I became so depressed I didn’t want to be here anymore and I tried to kill myself more then once. Through fate or through good thinking and timing on Brad’s part he stopped me every time. I put the poor guy through hell. What’s done is done though. I can see the silver lining in it. I made a friend for life. Someone that is not and never was meant to be my life partner but rather a soul that I’ll forever be linked to as friends. Someone I’d do anything for and who’d do anything for me. The true meaning of best friends. Sure we both have other close friends. But we have each other too.

It makes it hard sometimes. Other guys in my life have felt like I measure them against him. Maybe I did/do. Maybe it’s wrong. I have no idea. I’m not in love with him though people have said I am. I was at one point. But he’s more like a brother too me. A brother that will always take care of me and love me as a sister. A close friend. Someone I can count on and who can always count on me. I realize that makes it daunting for some guys. Maybe I should have cut ties with him. But he’s now in like 6 provinces away so it’s not like they have anything to worry about.

There’s been other guys but they all treated me like shit. They abused me mentally, physically and sexually. All my ex’s other then Brad hurt me seriously in one way or another. I used to think I attracted guys like that. And I think I was right. I did. At the time. I think that’s changing now. I’m starting to have a little more self confidence. It’s hard to find a guy that will care about you when you feel your the scum of the earth. When you start to feel worthy then things change.

As for friends. I have a few good ones. No one that I’d call a complete best friend as of yet. But I have some good friends that I think would definetly (and have definelty been) be there when I need them. I would definetly be there if/when they ever need me. They know that I hope. I am not the type of person that surrounds myself with people. I don’t have “tons” of meaningless friends. I have a small handful (very small at the moment) of friends that I am really close to. Some closer to others. Some mean more to me then I do to them. Some I probably mean more the them then they do to me. I don’t really know. But I value every one of them. They will likely never know what they mean to me. Or how much I care. I’m sentimental. I’m romantic. In more then just the non-platonic way. I’m very fond of my family and friends. And I love them to death.

They are the only thing in my life right now that lets me vent. And I’m sure at times they don’t want to hear it. But they let me. And I either do let them or would let them if they choose to also. But otherwise. I have no way to get my feelings and thoughts and fears out. I have no creative outlet other then this. Some would consider it creative. Others wouldn’t. Me, well it works to a pint but it just doesn’t provide the release I’m looking for but will have to do for now..

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