im not sure what to write about tonight. except for maybe im loosing my kids and my mind all at the same time.  i dont have a leg to stand on, not a financial one, not an emotional one.  not a spiritual one. i just want the kids to be happy and sometimes i still dont understand why they cant be happy with me.  i feel like im running out of energy, today was just another reminder of how badly im loosing my fight.  how humiliating to sit there and be scrutinized by so many people. to sit there and suffer through.  to have so many fingers pointed your way.  i feel as if im melting and there will be nothing left of my but a mushy puddle of waste. 

i want to be grateful, i want to feel normal, i want to feel alive and be seen as one of the living.  im scared and fed up, lost and alone drowning in bills i just cant pay in more ways than one.  I wish i had more positive things to write about, even more profound things but i dont.  im just a girl whom my sister has already mentioned somehow got interrupted.  funny how my sister and i worlds apart would relate and reach out to the same movie.  i wonder how shes doing, how she made it so far, if and when shes going back.  what must it be like to still have nowhere to call home.  i am grateful that i have a place to live, however fleeting that might also be.  I dont have to worry where im going to do all my sleeping.  I may not have groceries but i have somewhere to cook.  somewhere where the floors are dirty but it is my dirt.  i am so desperately searching for reasons to be grateful, reasons to keep on going.  i am trying to cling to my spiritual side, the side of me that knows that this isnt all for nothing.  that each painful tear is meant for a reason even if i dot know what the reason is.  all i know is that this must be meant for something or why else would the pain drag on for so long.,  my nails are to long to type on these little keys.  funny that there is a reason not to do anything.  even my eldest son wonders why i dont write anymore, "but you used to do it all the time mom," yes son, i did, i sed to do alot of things all the time.  and now?  now i check my email and nothing, watch tv and read.  and sleep, beautiful, treasured sleep.  all the time, as much as i can, for as long as i can. 

Happy Mothers Day

Today of all days I want to sit and be thankful that I am a mother.  I think I did the best that I could today.  I always want to do better, be better, and even when there have been several times i have had to contribute and figure out my worth to this world I have turned my back.  I can not help, I have thrown up my hands, there is nothing i can do for anyone.  i dont even pretend to try anymore.  I just want to be grateful today, grateful to be alive, grateful to have been with them and not have had to travel across the country to do it.  I bless us all, us sisters on our travels, and fear for us.  Who knows what these new roads have in store.  I am deeply afraid as always that I make poor choices.  choices that eat away and ebb at my very soul.  eat at my very core, my very being. 

so much to say. too little time

well hello again my fellow blogians;

(whatever that word I just made up means lol)

I have so much to say... but noever enough time to write a good post about my experience in the mental health hospital and now this one in a women's shelter...
I mean wow. talk about living with the choices we make.
is this shit ever difficult.
but I am holding my head above water ... just barely.... I promise I will talk about what sent me to the mental health place.... but just not now.. I am so busy these days... trying to find a home and all... I guess this blog is taking a back seat until I am more settled...
May 15th I leave for the Yukon to go see my baby girl graduate highschool. and I won't be back in gatineau until like July I think. whew. I should be able to write stuff on my bus trip and post it when I get a chance.
The adventures of a Pinhead are never easy.... they are always and I mean ALWAYS complicated.
anyways... I am off again to try to sort out more things to get myself out of this hole.
I wonder sometimes if I am digging in mud... because I seem to slip.

old and random

hmmm so I was told that my Initials TP add up to 36.... t being 20th letter in the alphabet and P being 16 ..... soooooooooooooo does that mean 36 has always been my "lucky Number" ... or is it coincidental that I turn 36 this year and got told that.... but perhaps I shouldn't take too seriously the ramblings of an old man in a home.... or perhaps maybe we should pay more attention to what the "old people" have to say... in a home or not. Too often I think we the younger generations take for granted the wisdom of age and experience... and too often laugh off the old and infirmed. .... just my random thought process at the moment. lol

Talk about a moment from "Girl Interrupted"

The title only makes sense if you've seen the movie I suppose, but .... if you haven't seen it... watch it.

My God it feels like it's been forever. I just spent a Month and 1 week at a Mental Health Hospital.
My sister calls it a Psych ward. I don't care for that term..... mostly because This was a hospital that dealth only and specifically in mental health, not a hospital with a ward for psych patients.

I feel better now that the puking etcetera, has stopped, and feel better now that I have a diagnosis. A proper diagnosis. They are as follows: Bi-Polar, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, And Panic and Anxiety Disorder with Agoraphobia. I am on the proper meds, and am on a better routine, of eating and exerceise.

HOORAY!

now thats the good news.

ha...... Pinheads always have both sides of the coin... the good and the bad.... the head and... well the ass ... essentially.

ok so bad news..... my boyfriend and I broke up, perhaps we needed the space. I know I did, and well..we have work to do. We'll see what happens. Stay Tuned.

I started to try to journal my dreams... I can't yet..... I will share my entries a little later when I have more time, and after this one.

I even scetched some of the pictures.... scary. And wait till I upload the art I drew inside there.

CRAYOLA MARKERS I LOVE YOU!!!!!! http://www.crayola.com/

So yeah.... I was released from Pierre Janét (the Mental Heal Hospital), and am currently in a women,s shelter.

I leave to go to the Yukon to see my kids finally and watch my daughter graduate Hisghschool, on May the 15th.... Greyhound Bus... uhmm yay!?!   lol

as you can probablly tell .... my mood is a lot different.

I am not "cured" .... I have a long road ahead. but at least I feel better.

At least I am not fantasizing about my death anymore.

At least I,m not wallowing in piss and shit. ( that was meant to be sort of funny .. but wound being gross and weird lol)

anyways. I have so much more to write to you.... my computer friend, but now I am tired.

We'll talk again another day.

cheers

Tamara

jealousies

I cant believe it but i am actually jealous of my sister for being in the psych ward.  I want to be there.  I want to be taken care of, i want a nurse to talk to,  i dont want to be here - all alone pacing my little kitchen just barely keeping myself from screaming.  the only thing that keeps me going is my visits with addy, or really - i would have lost it months ago.  but still, i feel like i am on the edge, ready to go down without a fight.  i dont know what to do with myself. i just dont know.  i dont think that i am suicidal, being dead doesnt solve my problems, only makes me dead.  i just dont want to call what im doing being alive neither.  it makes no sense.  even here, what am i trying to prove here?  i am just so sad, and have noone to tell that to, which really, makes me even sadder.  i have no friends in town, the phone never rings, the door is never for me.  except one time this drunk guy got a piece of my mind at 1230, it was ridiculous, i aint that desperate.  not yet anyways.

at the end of my rope

Easter used to be my favourite holiday, this year i could barely be bothered to drag down the big buckets filled with all my treasured decorations of years past.  nothing is the same.  i dont recognize anything about my life or myself for that matter.  i dont know what to do with myself for fun other than sleep.  I want to be able to do things but I just dont know how.  every other mom I know who lost their kids basically went crazy in one form or the other.  i am doing y best to stay on the side of normallcy but it is much more difficult then it seems.  which is why i guess, that i just want to sleep and watch the calendar tick away until they are returned.  you bet i have low self esteem and i have no idea how i'm supposed to raise it with out my babearoos in sight.  ugg, i'm even openly drooling now.  that has to count for at least a little bit crazy. 

So.. the pattern of a pinhead becomes apparent

Hello there fine peoples of the fukked up retardo-sucky-verse.....

I sort of warned you...

Are those blurry lines of what a "Pinhead" actually is... starting to become clearer?

yes?   no ?  

hmm ..... I was kind of hoping you'd have some insights.

No worries.... There's plenty of crazy to go around.........

By the time we've traveled this journey together... I'm confident that you'll not only fully comprehend what a "Pinhead" is..... I'm going to be so bold as to bet I wind up converting you.

*BING*  

(aka lightbulb moment)  

(enter humorous  montage of evil plan to rule the world by converting one Pinhead at a time... soundtrack from pinky and the brain)

ok seriously though, I would like to record my thoughts and what I "see" in my head... and also be able to have the ability to edit. (for obvious reasons too much info is too much) but it would be pretty awesome to archive everything that's there and be able to play it like a movie and be able to have that clear line from beginning.. to middle. to end.... anyways... I sort of went off on a wackadoo tangent .

*grins*

In true pinhead form too I just started talking to you as if I haven't just been ... you know... like not.... well here... in blogland with you.

So..... rewind

see? a cool my little brain recording device thingymagig would come in handy...   : p

alright so.... I'm back from another trip to the hospital. The same thing thats been going on since Christmas. Special added bonus or new feature to the pinhead doll ... fainting.

I'm told that they think I have what's called Cyclical Vomitting Syndrome.

A syndrome in which the patient undergoes regular cycles of violent vomitting, lasts several days and every couple of weeks.

Here's the thing...

I was kept over night, went though a battery of tests, and also a psychological evaluation. My spouse pulled the doctor aside and told him that he thought that the vomitting sickness is also related to untreated past sexual abuse.

I was pretty out of it in the hospital. This thing, whatever it is, makes me so delirious, I can barely talk, I can't really make out what anyone's saying it sounds garbled but at the same time sounds like they are screaming at me. I don't know if you can get a sense of what I mean.

It's the most terrifying position to be in, is all I have to say.

Anyways, during the psychological evaluation I wasn't as honest as I should have been, because I thought they were trying to admit me against my will. So I threw myself into my automatic survivor mode and used my shields and masks, because I didn't want to be told I was crazy.

I don't think I am crazy crazy .... I'm just one seriously messed up woman. Through no fault of my own, but only I can try to repair some of the damage.

Digressing... I'm trying to get to the point here because I've made a really important decision.

I was allowed to leave and return to the hospital and undergo an endoscopy, and then was released by around 5pm or so.
I was told that if the symptoms worsened to come back......

So ...we went home. I kept taking gravol and drinking sportsdrinks for electrolytes... I was able to go to sleep by around 2 am  and then at 11am ...

I woke up.... drenched in sweat... in a full on panic attack ..... and.... the puking ..... started again.

You have to understand the severity of this.. it's disgusting I warn you.. so ....

but when I puke from this thing.... I puke so hard that I piss and shit myself ... awesome eh?

yeah... how do you like me now?

I mean how humiliating ...

oh... and yeah... excuse me... out of curiousity.... how the hell I am supposed to live a life where once a month I look forward to at least a week of puking, pissing, and shitting myself?  Work? yeah... you try it.

I am not a whiner... I have worked hard all my life...but I simply CAN NOT take anymore.

We called 911 again... and got taken to the hospital again... but THIS time.. they refused to allow my spouse in the ambulance..... and then once there.... it was somehow decided that I should be put in a wheel chair and left to wait in the waiting room.

I had no glasses so I couldn't see.. I needed to puke... and was having diaherrea .... I made my way to the bathrooms... someone helped me I think ...... I dont even know .. because half the time I didn't know where I was.. While I was in the batheroom puking.. someone took the wheelchair I had right outside the bathroom door... so I was trying to find a chair ... when.. I passed the fukk out!!!!!!

Thank God for nice people in Hospitals... I don't know who it was.. but someone I think the same person who helped me find the bathroom got a nurse... I guess they got me back into a chair and stuck me by a window somewhere... When my husband finally found me he was furious... I passed out again while he was there....  and there were a few more random clues .... at one point I was just starting to doze, but then I jolted up and grabbed Linus by both of his elbows and he told me I looked at him with the widest most terrified eyes he had ever seen and then I went white as a sheet and started saying.. I have to run, I have to get out of here .. I have to get out of here now. I was sure I was going to die. I wasn't even aware that it was the hospital we were in... I felt ... like I was somewhere else.

Anyways... the person who had helped me until my husband came told my husband that he and his friends had been there for 26 hrs......

We left.. I couldn't take it.. I needed to lie down ... I had ativan at home .... with the things that were going on psychologically... we thought it was best to get me home and calmed down. I started taking ativans... and kept on the gravol.... and I would sit the bottom of the shower ( I have no bath tub) with the hot water pouring down on me until no hot water left. ( ONLY time I was able to be calm and stay relaxed) ....

so yeah there's that too.... This need I have to be hot water.  it is an obsessive need... it has to be witnessed to be believed.

then there is the fact that I can feel my intestines churning all the time.. and I am not talking about gurgling farts ok.... this is pain like I've never felt... when adding the vomitting on top... my stomach muscles are on some weird auto pilot .....and the same with my intestines.. with nothing to come out of either end... and I mean nothing.. I am going to the bathroom every 45 minutes thinking that mount vesuvious is going to come thundering out of my ass, but no.... nothing... just the parystolsis  ( parystolsis is what your thoat does when you swallow and what your intestines do to ... move.. things along..... reverse parystolsis = puking)

I am in so much pain ... in 6 days I have eaten 1 bowl of cereal, 1 bowl of soup and a couple of pieces of fish. I have nothing to shit nothing to puke...

yet... my stomach is still contracting like it wants to .... and my intestines feel like I have white hot pieces coal tumbling around them.


So...... Long story .... well not short but anyways.....

I'm going to talk to my doctor about admitting me as an in patient into psychiatric care.

Linus and I talked it over... and I really think that is where I need to be if I am ever going to find my way out.

I am trapped in my past, not because I have chosen to be... but because I haven't been able to define what is binding me... I can't pick the lock and bust out  if I  can't see the lock...  does that makes sense?

anyways.... It seems to be more and more plausible that whatever has me as ill as I am is not physical... they can find no physical reason for it.

So therefore I have to conclude that it is directly related to 11 years of repressed memories that are trying to claw their way to the surface... and I am fighting it... cause I am too terrified.

The only way I can confront it is if I feel I am in a safe environment where professionals can help me deal with what's happening physically.

Anyways... I am as determined as ever to record all this.....

I'm going to write to you as much as I can.

I don't know why... I just feel like .... this is what I have to do... I have to write about this journey.

and ...... share it...

no matter how vulnerable it makes me feel.

I think maybe I need to feel like somehow.... if I can be brave enough to write everything as raw and as real as it happens and how ever this "thing" expresses itself..... that perhaps someone else out there who has been through worse.. or similar.. can see that.....they are not alone.

I mean we all KNOW we're not alone... but the loneliest feeling in the world is being surrounded by people and feeling insignifigant and invisible.

I also think that everyone relates to different stories differently too... *grin*

anyways.. now I am talking in circles ... so I've said what I needed to say for now.

I'll try to be better at this blogging thing.

It's so very un-nerving.

Until next time dearies.

Your ever pinheaded nutcase.

Back to the Basics

I dont really know what to write about tonight, just kinda felt like writing and then now its like im at a loss for words.  I want to be able to share all the good stuff, the bad stuff, the ugly truth stuff, but sometimes its still so hard to get it all out.  i can wallow in it, write to my sister about it, but cant really get comfortable enough with the pain to really get over it.  it took me all day just to have a bath and that used to be one of my favourite things to do.  i think i'm basically ready for bed, how sad is that?  i think i might start to get overnight visits with my daughter and that seems so odd to say.  im sick of having visits with my kids.  i want them home and of course it all depends on whether or not the ex will cooperate so that i may go ahead with custody but he only cooperates when he thinks theres something in it for him. 

Maybe I Want to Nod Off

Sometimes, at the beginning of starting methadone, or when they up your dose you get pretty tired.  Thats why I went up.  I wasnt really "nodding off" anymore and there are already so many hours in the day to fill.  I dont want to be alert and full of pain, I cant handle it anymore.  I just dont think I will ever be over this.  It looks to me as if there is alot riding on my apppointments with my counsellor.  And that more than a little scares and confuses me.  It is much better than ever trying to hope that CAS or my parents are ever going to figure it out. I still cant believe that this is all happening.  Why was this allowed to happen? There has just got to be nmore to it than to than just the kids dad's incompetence.  I have proved a thousand times over that I am competent to raise tthe kids.  I am so sad today. So sick of this.  So lost.  maybe i should just sleep

i cant stay asleep because all i have are nightmares all night long about what alooser i am for not having my kids, not deserving of overnight visits with mt own kids and i dont even think they want to be with me anymnore,  and i hate nmy mother and my father and anyone else who stands inmy way of me being me,

Staying Asleep part 2

It looks as if I am still having trouble staying asleep.  Maybe i'm just sleeping too much, maybe all i want to do is sleep.  maybe i just dont want to be awake.  I'm not sure what i want but I know its not really to go to bed alone before 9 every night.  I had a nap tonight and i could still go back to bed, its ridiculous but good in a way.  Think of all the pain i'm saving myself. 

The Day After Valentines

I am not sad that it was Valentines Day and that I didnt have anyone to share it with.  I am just sad.  And I dont have anyone to share anything with.  I am anxiously sitting here with my phone beside me for comfort and Seinfeld dvds playing in the background for noise.  I am anxiously waiting for the phone to ring to see if I am going on my first date in about fifteen years or not.  I am desperate for company.  Just desperate all around i think.  I am desperately angry with my ex.  Out of nowhere he is suddenly going for joint custody and i feel like such a fool, i didnt even see it coming.  I should have known, i shouldnt be at all surprised but here i am with my mouth hanging open regardless.  I cant believe the nerve of it really, like why now?  Why anything at anytime I guess.  I guess I am learning just how gullible i am, I still actually believe that there is good in people.  I actually believe that people will do the right thing just because its right.  Someone is going to help me tomorrow and I still dont believe that I will actually get the help until I see it for my very own eyes.  It will come from a very relieble source, yet still, what if he prays about it tonight, what if he sees my evil under belly and decides its not such a great idea to trust me after all.  money truly is the root of all evil sometimes.  But I need it, I have nothing and I can not in good conscience refuse any sort of assistance from anyone right now.  I even had to accept a bus card from my CAS worker who in the same breth tells me i am unfit to nparent my children ande that I should have been prepared for empty nest syndrome when my eldest is just barely twelve.  That is unconceviable to me, how can anyone say anything so god damn fucking stupid and insensitive?  Are you kidding me?  Why should I have been prepared to have no children?  Why should anyone be prepared to have their whole lives taken away from them?  How can i be expected to adjust?  Why would I want to adjust?  I dont want to know what it feels like to be happy without my children.  I want my children.  I want my family returned.  I dont know what to do with the money i will get tomorrow.  I am supposed to pay off my phone bill but it is not enough money, i could pay off parts of it but then i'd still be broke and still wouldnt have a phone.  I could just put a bunch of money on my cell phone, that might work.  and then i could put a little on the bill and keep some for now.  maybe i could buy a new phone?   one that came with a better plan?  that might work.  oh, i could just leave town and fuck off for a little while which is what i really want to do, am so friggin desperate to do.  and then i could book classes, i really want to be good at my job, but how am i going to do this?  i am afraid of the phone most of the time.  I am afraid of most things most of the time lately.  And this new shrink labelled me sane, great, great timing.  Just when I think that i am going to loose it the most they want to say that i am friggin sane?  and of course, that i am depressed have every reason to be depressed and that i have to just work through it.  i font understand that part.  How long am i supposed to just go through it?  when will i know if i am done going through this or not?  how can anyone else be expected to judge whether or not its over?  Does anyone think that freakin chantal is qualified to figure out whether or not i'm "better"?  What does "better" look like?  I think that I am beginning to hate this woman.  I think that I am starting to have a little hate on for alot of people.  It is not a good feeling.  And I dont know how long it will last or what it will do to me.  I could have already gone out and seen a guy who already has a girlfriend.  I want someone i can call my own and be wiith outright.  its over now between the ex and i for sure.  Theres no going back now if there ever was.  I wonder if this guy will call or not.  I will try to have something to eat and kill more time.  I can see it now.  I'll get fed up and go to bed and that will be when he calls.

small minds, small miracles

surely my brain must be too small for my head since i swear i can hear it knocking around like a loose walnut in a broken shell. I want to crack my head wide open sometimes and just let whomever feed off the flesh. how dramatic is that? and now instead of being a balloon, i am a walnut. I am just so unsure of what to do with myself i want to scream. why does everything i want and need take so much friggin time. I just want enough money to buy some decent groceries, maybe take my kids somewhere. I want to go to decorators school and get really good at what i do for once in my life. I want to succeed and brush off this label of looser i was branded with at birth. Isnt it strange to know that your mother never liked you? isnt it strange to know that youd be better off running outside searching for a stranger to hug you then it would be to depend on those youve called family since you could speak to do it. How sad that my arms seems so weak and tiny. I feel so frail and small, so insignificant. I wish that I could stop wishing for good things to happen and that they would just happen already. i wish I wasnt so filled with fear and loathing. I wish I was close to someone again, i need to share my life, i need to share who i am.

Toilet Humour

Dear Whoever is out there,

It's been awhile hasn't it? .... In fact it has been so long that I had to go back and re-read my previous posts.

I'm glad that was the case, because I was so pleasantly surprised to see that my sister started posting too.

So .... Let's see... where to begin... again.. (and probably a few more times in the future).

I was sick again, I believe it was only a day or two after my last post. I will spare you the gory details of my wondrous trip to what I am now referring to as Satan's Bowl, for surely only something evil could make me as ill as I get ..... This time, at least, I went to the hospital straight away. Fuck sitting at home for 3 days wondering when it's going to end........ and then going to the hospital, leaving behind a bathroom that looks and smells like someone died in it. And while this certainly conjures all kinds of humorous imagery, if you are a fan of  "Toilet" humour. For me, the scenario is loosing the humour I have always been able to find in my own misery.

At Emerg., this time, I was put into observation, after the triage nurses were having a hard time getting my blood pressure because I kept fainting, and for some reason it was so ultra difficult to get an iv into vein at the bend in the bicep/forearm, so I was lined in on the top of my hand (painful). I've been IV'd many times, so don't get me wrong here. I am not mentioning the position of the IV to whine about that per se, I mention it because it is the first time that I have had the nurse who drew the IV, "MILK" the vein, because nothing was flowing into the specimen vials that she was collecting for the lab. Is it just me or is that not weird? The thing is, I was so delirious I was having a hard time speaking, I tried telling the nurse that I was delirious and instead I said delusional.... How's that for awesome? that's a pretty big difference in meaning, and to top it off, it's not like I was talking to a gas attendant, I just told a nurse I was delusional.

Since I am on narcotic pain meds, and I am poor, and no one important or special, I get treated as though I am drug abuser. Not by the Doctors, by the nurses. And everyone knows, that when you go to an emergency room, it is the nurses that you are dealing with for however many hours you are waiting, before you get to see a Doctor.

Anyways... now I've gone on about that for so long, I've pretty much used up my time. I can only type for so long before the pain is too much I have to stop.

SO... Let's move on for now.

I still have the hole in my ceiling. My Landlord is not in any hurry to fix this place.

And I feel like I'm climbing an uphill battle... and the hill I got... when the hills were assigned, is made of mud. For every step I take, every move.... I have to climb, scrape, scratch and claw my way through ever shifting, ever sliding, ever moving ... mud.

It's appropriate I suppose... that this post begins in the bathroom and ends with mud.

It's all about the brown.

I guess I haven't totally lost my ability to see humour in my own misery.

Staying Asleep

It looks as if I have no troubles falling asleep, but it is the staying asleep part I have so much trouble with. i'm up every hour just to remind myself how painful it is to wake up. the children were here today. I never did get any extra time with my daughter. I dont know how I make it sometimes, the pain is unreal. my whole life feels unreal. What will tommorrow bring? maybe i'll do another nnecklace, go through yet another box of crap. Clean up todays mess and do todays dishes. I am supposed to teach a class this week and all I want to do is hide under the covers and stay there. and stay there permenantly. I smoke way too much for someone who is as broke as i am. I hate money. more, I hate the lack of money and people who dont understand what its like to not even have enough to buy themselves a coffee or a pack of gum. sometimes its a choice. do i want that coffee or do i want to eat this week. you dont know broke until youve kissed the poverty line goodbye. and i have kissed that line goodbye long ago. I survive on barely nothing, which is fitting really. why would my life be any eassier right now. why wouldnt it be the most difficult year i have ever been through. why would god give me a break? all i want to do is get my kids crap out of pawn so he doesnt hate me, maybe have a decent meal, maybe fix the phone so i dont feel so friggin isolated all the time. maybe take a vacation with my kids for march break- maybe just burn rubber right the hell out of here and never look back. Whats so important that it cant be replaced? this little gadget fits in my purse. i'd want my cake pans, and i want more sleep

Ugg...

"yes, yes it is beautiful outside." I know I should be grateful, I am grateful, but I am pissed as well. Why me? Why does this shit always happen to me? What did I do so wrong to be branded such a loser that I cant even be with my own children on a beaustiful saturday afternoon? And I look over at the clock - 12 noon, a little too early to call it a day and go to bed like I did last night on a friday - whoo hooo, look at me whoop it up and go to bed at 7:30p.m. Yeah, look at me go. It's pathetic how starved I am for a little attention, a little companionship, a little conversation. What I wouldnt do for a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean against when the weather is so windy. I feel like a balloon everybody let go of and i'm just floating around aimlessly, higher and higher. Soon i'll just be a tiny dot up in the sky and noone will ever be able to reach the string. Maybe oneday i'll get caught in a tree, maybe some kid will climb up and pull me down. Walk around with me. Ugg, so now i'm a balloon, great. I think I just want to be anything but me. Anything but a lonely little woman sitting here with her tiny 10 inch laptop, huddled at her kitchen table full of beads instead of kids colouring books.
My counsellor tells me to act as if - "as if" I had a life. On one hand I look not too bad, I am a jeweller, I make beautiful necklaces that nobodys bought yet but I may have a buyer. I am keeping my fingers crossed, either way, I like making them. And whatever doesnt sell I am going to donate to the Spring Tea at my co-ops community centre. Yes, on one hand I look not too shabby, too bad I didnt have friends, too bad I didnt have family. My bestest friend lives a plane or bus ride away and my one and only bestest sister is a plane or bus ride away. I have family the lives in the city here with me but you would never know it, and I have never known anything so freakin sad. I'm not sure what I did to piss everybody off so bad. I am just a huge disappointment to all that claim they knew me. I am told that I have to create my own family. Which means I have to move. But I cant go anywhere without my children, and thats why I am so stuck. So frozen with fear that this is it for me and I am only 37 years old. I am grateful for my home but it has turned into nothing more than prison walls for me. I am gratefujl that I have a warm place to sleep and somewhere safe for my kids to play when they visit. I want to die when I use the word visit, this is their home, they just dont sleep here and my heart is brutally broken. I hope the lawyer is right. I hope I can sue my mother with abduction. I hope I can sue CAS with the gross incompetent charge that they deserve. I hope beyond anything that my children will be reurned to me and I will be free to live my life in peace, without judgement, without criticisim, withou her disappointed looks, without her sarcasm, without her lies, bullshit and manipulation. Free from her, free from her, free from her.
And free from him... the one who has been likened to digging up a dead body every time I speak to him. And its true. It is heartbreaking that I have so much to apologize to my children for. I didnt know that by loving him I was destroying all of us, I just thought that if I loved him enough he would do the right thing and he would take care of us and all would be well. How was I too know that oneday I just wouldnt be able to take what a bunch of bullshit waste my life had become. He lied about everything and took away my dreams. He choked out my hope in more ways then one, ripped my door off and ripped away any semblance of normal I ever knew. What a waste of time. And I did not do my kids the favour i thoguht I was doing by keeping him in their lives, now theres just more to explain. more to say I am so very friggin, pathetically sorry for. Everyday, everytime I see them I kiss their heads and silently beg for forgiveness. Soon I will be able to ask for even more forgiveness, but not yet. Sometimes saying your sorry is by not saying it at all and just fixing the problem. I can almost fix some problems that only money and time can fix. Almost but not quite. Ugg, its still early in the day, I better find something else to do...

Another Day I just Dont Know What To Do

My parents dropped the custody suit they have against me for my children. I am terrified, perhaps more so than when I actually had to go to court. Perhaps in a court of law, perhaps with reasonable people who believed in innocent until proven guilty I may have had half a fighting chance. Now I am up against "them" again, the them I don't want nor care to prove anything too. They had their chance, perhaps I have had mine too. My counsellor says that I will learn to forgive my own parents through my children forgiving me. That brings even more fear, how long will that take? Who will my children be when they find their way home to me? Once time is gone, its gone, and I can not go back in time and turn my children back into babies, can not revisit the sweet toddler years, my little girl going from little girl to mini adult. I cant get any of it back and I would even trade this gadget if I could even if just for a second. What would I change the most? I dont know. I would have said goodbye to their father alot sooner. I would have sat down more. I would have paid attention more, played more, read more stories. It's like a death that supposedly has flung my right into the hands of grief and sorrow. Sometimes I cant breathe and all I want to do is drop to my knees and beg these people, "please, please reurn my babies, i'm dying here, right in front of you, slowly but surely I am melting away with the snow. I'm freezing and friggin pissed right off please give them back. And by the way who made you judge and jury to decide whether or not I am a worthwhile human being? Who said that you could tell me when I was capable of being a parent? Who fuckin said?" and now that the court case is dropped that is exactly what I will have to do. I will have to kiss ass and parts of me will die. Parts of me have already ceased to live here anymore. Some of the things I am glad they're gone, it was slow and painful for some - nothing comes quick or easy for me. I have been destined to struggle through everything, and I mean everything. Ugg, today is one of those days, I cant sit still, cant think, cant focus got to go walk around. I miss my children incredibly, I miss being a mom, I miss the noise and the distractions and being responsible and their little hugs and kissing their booboos and making supper and seeing them off to school, i miss arguing with my oldest, brushing my daughters hair, my little ones voice and sweet, soft as silk hands. I miss loving people and sharing my life, I miss reading stories and putting them to bed. I miss bath time and lunch and oh, my God sometimes i cant breathe and dont know how I am going to make it but maybe my daughter can come over later and I'll feel normal for a few minutes, and just seeing her will be enough to pull me through another day. And I wonder how long this can go on, how long can one endure so much pain and still survive? still live a life? and never feel human again? I am not a robot designed with buttons or manuals, noone knows how to do "this" because "this" shouldnt be real, it shouldnt be happening. I am not a bad person because i was in pain, I am not a bad mother.

Pinhead #2

I am the oldest pinhead although not the brightest by far. Just because you are older doesnt mean you are smarter or any more deserving of respect. It just means that you so happened to be born first. I have become extremely attached to my little tiny computer, it has saved my hide in more ways than one on more than a few occassions. Its funny the things you become attached to. Something about these little keys makes me feel alive. and like my fellow pinhead I have quite the story to tell. I am a mother of three although to look at me you would never know it. They dont live with me right now which is a pain I can just barely scratch the surface of today. The wound is too fresh, too new, too raw, too real. It would be impossible to explain the pain of loosing your children, especially to your own twisted version of a mother. I feel as if I am a car crash survivor, or survived the sinking of the titanic or something. I am alone in the world with only my meager possessions for company. Hence why I have grown so attached to my tiny keyboard. It is my only link to the outside world, my only way of staying connected with friends and those friends I call family. And my sweet sister. How else could I tell her how much she means to me without the beauty of this little gadget. When you dont have anything, you sure learn fairly quickly whats really important to you and to your survival. What can you just not possibly live without? What could never be replaced no matter how much money you came up with?

Art Tab

Hey anyone who may be reading this blog...

I added some stuff to the art tab..


new blogs to come ..

Just another Pinhead

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Wish in one hand, crap in the other, and See which one fills up faster.

Dear pretend audience,
(that I secretly wish will become a real audience one day)

I hate this negativity cloud (or depression cloud?) that seems to perpetually hang over my head.

No.... It's not even that really. I think that I have learned that this cloud or whatever it is, goes deeper than depression, and deeper than it just being a matter of "thinking positively" rather than thinking or feeling negatively.

I was sexually abused as a child. By a trusted member(s) of the community I grew up in. I have recently been informed that several other people I grew up with were also abused by the same person(s).

Is it possible that by writing this blog slash online diary slash blah blah blah, that I might be able to dig deep into these abstract and terrifying memories and perhaps , just perhaps be able to see beyond the grey cloud to the clear sky just behind it.

As I am writing this to you, whoever you are, even if you are purely a creation of my very handy imagination, I somehow feel as if I can talk about this safely here.

I feel the small child inside me silently shedding tears of gratitude for giving her a voice, and perhaps even some ears to hear her story, and that of her siblings Trapper and Joy.

Therapists I have had, have said that I should write a book. Perhaps they were humoring me, or patronizing me, I don't particularly care. I think that they were correct.

I also think that this is going to be therapeutic for me.... perhaps even my siblings.

Whoever is reading this. Thank You for listening.

or is it reading? ...... you catch my drift I'm sure.

I know I just keep kind of dropping little bombs here and there, without really discussing or going into details.

I wish that I could just tell my story.

I wish that I could have a clear focus on how to begin... how to end...

but you know what they say....

Wish in one hand.... crap in the other... and see which one fills up faster.

ha!

The Road to Hell......

You know the saying. We've all heard it. And isn't it true? !

I was SOOOO NOT planning on there being a giant hole in my ceiling for this long.

But that should be ok right? Like, maybe I need to learn to roll with the punches some more.

Yeah! Like I haven't had enough of those. I've seriously had enough of the punches. I've rolled with them... physically, emotionally.... anyways

Let's take this day by day.

Last night before I went to bed, I did a wonderful deep breathing exercise, with some meditation music. I want to say that I'm going to do this every day, and build on my non existent routine. BUUUUUUUT ....... I may actually be learning. I'm not going to say that because then something stupid will happen, like .... oh.... my shower will fall through the hole, and the job will take even longer.

don't get me started on the fact that there was mold found, and I'm being "assured" that it has all been removed.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!!!!!!

I'm going back to my hot water bottle. I can barely sit up, typing kills me.

and go figure that I think that writing a blog is going to help.. hahhahahahaha

See! Pinhead! Classic Pinhead. LOL

yeah. so ciao for now.

Lifestyles of the Poor and Anonymous

Well, I'm back. I've taken some meds, played some games online (  http://www.wildtangent.com/ ), done some deep breathing exercises, and decided I wanted to come back here and bitch some more. 

I realized I wrote like I actually have an audience or something. Is that healthy? 

Honestly I think I am so used to talking to myself at this point that it isn't a stretch of the imagination for me to be writing letters to myself now also. hahahahaha... ha . Fuck normal. 

I do know one thing. I am NOT going back on the Seroquel .. no way.. no how. 

I'll smoke grass thanks. 

ok...so yeah.

I guess I should tell you that at roughly 33 - 34 years of age, I pretty much bit the dust. I ground my gears to a halt. 

I have talked about the meds .... sort of .... and the chronic pain .. ish ..

I've written 3 posts on this blog so far and everything has been pretty meaningless information. 

And...... considering I wrote them... I couldn't tell you the first thing I wrote. Sad.

Anyways. 

There is a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

There always is. 

I, along with my siblings. Are .... Survivors. 

So because of the sensitive nature of these sorts of topics. "Survivor" Topics. I've been dancing around discussing it here.

Also, I'm not sure how much my siblings are willing to air out here. I feel very strongly about not disclosing another persons story. And I am working out how I can process my own without dragging them too far somewhere they might not be ready to go yet.

Oh Gosh, there really is so much to say. I've never known where to start. This is no exception.

I am trying really hard to just keep going through train of thought, and resist the urge to go back and edit and edit and edit and edit. and obsess, and obsess. 

Anyways. I have this need to let my story out.

I feel so strongly that I need to purge it all from my system. 

I am literally being poisoned by my past. 

Look.. maybe I am fit for the psych ward. 

I don't care. I have to try. 

I need to scream into cyber space my guilt, my shame, my anger, my hurt, my sins and all of my pain.

I have allowed the criminals who abused me, to control my life.

I take back my life. Do you hear me?!! 

It's MINE and YOU robbed me!!

Like .... I wish people could really understand what having only one life means.

what it really means.

I'm never going to get back my childhood. 

and it's not really about having my childhood per se, back.  

I just mourn the innocent trust ... that purity. 

Now, I have to sign off again. 

Ciao

So as you can see, it takes a long time to get to know a Pinhead. (The Pain Song)

Dear Blogbook,

Today is a shite day. I can barely move when I get up in the mornings. All of the "good intentions" I had started out this New Year with are already hitting major pot holes.
So basically this whole "experiment" is definitely a "work in progress".
I will do my best to write something every day or other day.
I'm just going to report my ups and downs and anything that is important to me that day/week whatever.
Oh... There is still a giant hole in my ceiling and it rains when we take a shower. *made of awesome*
I am just praying that this upheaval at the beginning of the year, means that finally after living in the same apartment for almost 3 years, we may actually get moved in.

My bed is finally upstairs, so I'll be able to actually use my main floor the way it is supposed to be used. As a kitchen slash living room. Instead of the way it has been used for the past year, as a kitchen slash bed room.

Yeah. I am full of bitching and moaning today.

Sorry readers. But better you (the random people of cyber space), than my poor PawBear.

I'm signing off for now, because I have to take more pain meds.

I am sooooooo fucking sick and tired of being sick and tired.

I feel like I am 6 yrs old again, sitting by the window on what was supposed to be a sunny summers day, instead of running around outside playing with my friends.

And I am singing the rain song in my head.

Except this time ... it's the pain song.

Pain. Pain.
Go Away.
I want to live my life some day.

Meet the Pinheads 2 or what the hell am I talking about.

HAHA! So in true Pinhead form, I haven't properly introduced Pinheads 1 and 3! And to be honest, it probably won't get done in this blog either. LMAO!

I also didn't blog yesterday.

I have a perfectly reasonable explanation I swear!

No, it's not an excuse.

 *gives you a disappointed glare and then proceeds to pout*

Well ................... I have a giant hole in my ceiling!

*Sighs*

Yeah it's awesome! We've had problems with our shower for ages.

So much so that I have felt that a big part of the health problems I have had over the past 2 years are partially due to the fact that there is mold between the floors of my apartment. (Whether this is the case or not, is yet to be determined, I guess we'll find out)

Long story short, my landlord's husband and her son, (AKA "Whatshisname" and "Fucktard" respectively), came over to "check what they'd have to do to fix leak" the day before yesterday, and as he poked his screwdriver in through the small hole where water poured down from, a big chunk of drywall, fell on the floor.

Whatshisname then looks at me and says "I guess we're coming back tomorrow." (YOU GUESS?)

No big deal you think?

I am already in flight or Fight mode BEFORE they've even come in, for me, it is a big deal, HUGE.

And I have a hard enough time being outside my house with people. I don't like them coming in my house.

My home is my safe zone. Or at least it is supposed to be.

Regardless if my brain should know logically that it's better to let Whatshisname and Fucktard in to fix the leaky roof, my nerves scream "GET THE FUCK OUT!!!!"

My spouse (PawBear), was pulling his 24 hr work week-end, where he does 12 hrs on Sat. and 12 hrs on Sun.. So he is already edgy at work, leaving me on my own for so long. He knows by now that any disruptions to my routine sends me into wild panic attacks.

I say wild panic attacks, because I do some pretty fukked up shit, when I have gone over that edge. Including getting what I like call "SuperWoman" Complex, where I believe I have no choice but to do something on my own, I surge with adrenaline and can "bulldoze" objects or people 2, 3 or even 4 times my size. Resulting in injury of my own person, or perhaps if someone else is there, the possibility of hurting someone else in my panic is highly probable even if it is not my intention.

So anyway,

Fukktard tells me Saturday afternoon, that I have to move my Queen sized bed upstairs (which is full of boxes), and rearrange my whole house practically by 9 am the next morning otherwise we'd have to have the hole in the roof until the following week-end.

I am all by myself, so in my mind I am already speeding full tilt for the edge. I have no idea how I am going to do this alone.

Oh yeah. I don't know anyone where I live. So Regis  can't offer me the option of "phoning a friend".

My lifeline is at work until 9pm. WHAT am I going TO DO?

So, PawBear left work early so that he could come home and surprise me, and hopefully prevent me from doing something stupid, like trying to move everything on my own, and hurting myself.

Thank God he did. I was literally minutes away from "Just Do'ing It!"

As it stood, even with both of us there, we couldn't get the bed upstairs.

But PawBear stayed up the whole night, while I slept, and rearranged everything as best he could so that they could come and fix our shower at 9am Sunday morning.

Well..... like I said at the start of this post.

I have a GIANT hole in my ceiling!

Today's weather.

Stormy , with a high probability of showers .... Right in the Middle of MY Livingroom!

Meet the Pinheads

Pinhead #1  ~  Joy Dawn ~ Daughter, born 1974
Pinhead #2  ~  Nubbins Dawn ~ Daughter, born 1976
Pinhead # 3 ~ Trapper Dawn ~ Son, born 1981

Hi! I'm Nubbins, also known as Pinhead #2. I'm starting this New Year by taking a deep breath and jumping head first into a blog!

I don't really know what I am doing, or what I hope to achieve. Actually.... maybe that's not exactly accurate.

I've spent the last two years so physically ill that I have felt like I was dying. This Christmas was no exception.

It began on Boxing day, perhaps even before that, as I was unable to cook Christmas dinner for my spouse and I on Christmas day. I felt well enough to cook our dinner on Boxing day, but the following day I was ill, like that kid from the horror movie. It felt as though my head was spinning around, and I was puking some strange green substance.

It is really embarrassing to admit this, but I was spewing from the back end as well, and I didn't make it to the bowl either. How awesome is it to be running up the stairs holding onto your ass for dear life, crying, and yelling behind you to your spouse "Help please, I'm not going to make it!..... Oh Shit oh Shit oh Shit ohshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! Huuuuuunnnnnyyyy!!! *BAWL* There's pooh puddles on the floor! "

Let me tell you...... You know a man loves you.... when he cleans up your pooh puddles and doesn't make you feel like a disgusting dirty pig.

Yeah... so... anyways.....

By the time I went to the emerg. (more than 48hrs later) ..... sitting there with an IV in arm, and needing to get gravol injections..... I'd had it! I mean really had it.

I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

So.... I decided that I was going to start my own "get with the program" program.

In as much as an Agoraphobic, PTSD, disassosciative disordered person, can.

I've been making my bed as soon as my spouse leaves for work, then I tidy my kitchen, and then I try to go on my stationary bicycle for at least 5 minutes ( small amounts of time every day (or close to), to make the routine of doing it become habit), then paint, stretches, play computer games/watch tv online..... and now I have added .....

write in my blog.

soooooooo......

tada!


As for Pinhead #1 and Pinhead #3 .... I can't say if they will contribute or not.... all I can say is... that I hope they will.

Stay Tuned for more posts!