i'm darkness and light, bubbles and faerie wings. i am sparkles and glitter, shadows and clouds. i love purple, and faeries, and books, and music.

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Ramblings by Year

the colour of healing

I don’t know if I’ll be back at work next week or not. Personally, I don’t think I should be, but I guess that’s up to the doctor to decide. I’m still not sleeping and having stupid panic attacks all the time. I’m sad, I’m angry, I’m manic, I’m exhausted. But I have an appointment tomorrow, and we’ll see what’s what. Also, it’s 5pm and the sun is still out. Time change this weekend, which always makes me tired (will I even notice a difference?) which means MORE light at the end of the day. I like that.

Meanwhile, in my random manic moments, I am channeling that energy into finally making myself a craft room area. We took the single bed out of the room (which was really only used to hold JUNK), and cleared out a ton of other stuff, and now I have a space to create the way I want.

And right now, I want to be surrounded by blues and teals. This is odd, because I generally do not like blue. But blue is calling to me right now. I mentioned on facebook that I hope I still like blue/teal when this current ptsd set-back is over, because I’m ALL IN right now. Paint, decor, etc.

Clearing out the junk took a while. Because… JUNK.

But once it was all cleared out, I could put my new desk together (that Shawn got me for Christmas), and take my sewing machine out of the box (which my in-laws got me for Christmas). It was nice to have space.

I could have started working on stuff then, but oh, no! Manic Cat needed MORE. I needed to paint. A specific colour. I needed shelves. (Shelves, in this house, are sadly lacking. But we never felt like spending money on them.) I repurposed a shelf that was in the basement holding books (those books are stashed elsewhere for the moment), and I repurposed some mugs I never use, but didn’t want to get rid of, for supplies.

But I still needed more. I swear this time off from work is going to make me broke. So I went out and bought paint. And started painting. Short bursts of painting. Most of a wall a day. Yoshi is helping.

You can’t really tell from the photos, but the blue is a bright teal-ish sort of happy blue. And right now, that’s what I want to be surrounded by. I am going to paint one wall white (the wall with the window), and I’m thinking of looking into a shimmery paint for that. Sort of like mother of pearl, or something.

The top parts aren’t done yet, but I don’t want to climb ladders while I am home alone. I’m not sleeping, I’m (occasionally) taking anti-anxiety medication that makes me very dopey, and I am just not all that steady on my feet right now. So I’ll do the climbing parts at the end, or this weekend, while Shawn is around. I also need help moving that one big bookcase with the books on it. So he’ll be enlisted to help with that, too. He just doesn’t know that yet. (Hi, husband!! *waves*)

I bought some little book-box things as well to keep crafting supplies in (i.e. WASHI TAPE!), they have the same colours as my mood lately. Blue, teal, light purple… I will use those colours to surround myself in this room.

I will eventually teach myself to sew. Right now I’m working on knitting. I need to make some cards, too. Of course I have nothing to SIT on for my new desk, so I’ll be getting a stability ball for that. I like to bounce on one of those as I think. I also sort of have a lot of junk still ON the desk, with not much of an idea of where to put it. I’m guessing a rubbermaid container and shoved in another room will be the solution there. (Which is sort of how this particular room ended up being a junk room. Bright side – we got rid of a lot of garbage, and have bags of stuff to donate now!)

I’m still looking for two pieces of furniture for the room – one is a little cart with drawers so I can keep all my stickers in one place, and the other is a shelf that is cubed, that you can put baskets in. (Like this!) And lastly, I want to make a pegboard to hang up supplies, etc. Similar to the one on this blog.

Oh! I also picked up decals for my walls. (I am tossing between words, or polka dots, not sure.)

I wanted the words “Dream. Imagine. Create.” on my walls, but I can’t find imagine or create. So, I am contemplating a way of painting the text onto my walls. I just need to figure out how to make the template I want. I have an idea that I don’t know if it will work, so if it does – I’ll post about it. If it doesn’t – I’ll paint over it. 😉

Right now I am healing the only way I know how. Quiet, in my head, surrounded by imagination and blue.

Create. Dream. Heal.

place holder

I don’t remember what I was going to write about when I began this post on February 22nd, and wrote the subject line only. It probably had to do with what’s been going on in my head and how I’ve been struggling lately. I have a second post in drafts that I began last Thursday, and I even made a graphic for it. It was, and is, supposed to be an upbeat, positive post.

Only when I went to write anything –  all energy and motivation left me. Which is what I think happened with this post, too.

It’s almost as if I deflate like a balloon when it’s time to get the words out. Words I need to get out to help myself heal.

I’m having a difficult time. I haven’t been sleeping. Not since somewhere mid-January. I’m currently off work for a week or so. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go back next week if I am still not sleeping. The increased medication, and the anti-anxiety pills I was given aren’t helping – yet.

In short: PTSD sucks. It sucks big time.

I can’t control reactions. I try, but it doesn’t always work. I work so hard at being OK. I work so hard at being healthy and on top of anything that might seem to be a trigger or a downward spiral. I work at it. I get help. I don’t like asking for help. I don’t like that I can’t control this and just BE BETTER. But I do ask for help. I pick up that phone when I know it’s gotten to a point where I can’t do this on my own. I have health professionals helping me, I have family helping me, I have friends helping me.

I feel like a failure most of the time, and I feel like a failure for having to accept the help of others, but I know – deep down – that I am not. I do know that it’s a brave thing to ask for help. It’s a good thing that I know my limits (although, I admit to letting things get a little too out of control before I do pick up that phone. I am stubborn and determined to beat this on my own.)

An extremely awful, random, terrifying thing happened to me almost 2 years ago and I am so sick and tired of it affecting my life. I am tired of things being triggers that I don’t even know are triggers. Or things that I know would be triggers to other things that have decided to latch on to this thing.

And you can’t really explain this to people. It’s up there with depression and other mental illness – it’s not a tangible thing to point at and say, “This. This is what’s happening.” Yes, I know I should get out of the house and do things, but sometimes I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I physically can’t at the time, and sometimes I just need to be quiet. Alone with my head. I need to be… in my cone of silence? I guess that’s the best way to put it. I’m working on making a craft room, I’m clearing out clutter and organizing things in the house. I’m getting out of bed early (it helps that I’m not sleeping) and just doing quiet things around the house. In between panic attacks. I’m safe and content in my own head, I’m not listening to bad thoughts, I’m just… calm.

Because most of the time my head is full of static and white noise. Like when you accidentally turn your TV to the non-cable station. Loud. Black and white static. Static, static, loud and bright.

And so I am not sleeping. And I am sad. So very sad. And then, suddenly, so very very angry. And then scared. And sad. And utterly exhausted. Emotion is exhausting. Being in state of high anxiety is exhausting. Trying to be OK is, well, exhausting.

I am tired of fighting to be ok. I am tired of treading water, frantically, trying to keep my head above the waves so I can breathe. Fighting to breathe. It’s exhausting. And I’m so over this. And I just want to be able to function normally again. I want my colours back. My colours are gone. Even my hair is almost my natural colour – first time in 10 years. I don’t read. I don’t sing. I don’t create. I feel washed out and bland.

And I wish I could go back in time and not take the street to work I took that morning in March. I wish that the man who jumped could have taken his life some other way. Some other way that didn’t involve anyone else. I am thankful I stopped when I did, or I wouldn’t be here today. I should be happy that I am still here, and I am, but I am so sick and tired of the random panic and sadness and anger that keep coming back since that day. He ruined so much of me and I’m worried I’ll never get me back.

PTSD sucks. And I know I’m not alone. And not everyone gets it. But then again, not everyone suffers a trauma. I just want it to go away. I just want it to leave me alone. I want to be in control of my emotional state again and not have to worry about what may or may not trigger a downward spiral. I’m so tired of this. Frustrated. Annoyed. Over it.

1027

The number of songs currently on my iPhone, and I don’t want to listen to any of them.

They are all annoying me. I just skip, skip, skip, past each one. I stop, thinking I’ve found a song I want to listen to, but then skip it half-way through. I hate this feeling. I hate days like this. Well, more like weeks. I had over 2000 songs on here until recently, but got rid of most of them, keeping only those I was more inclined to let play.  Alas, not so much any more.

music

 

So, I can’t read, and now I can’t listen to music. My two main outlets are currently out of service. I keep rustling my feathers, unable to sit still. I could really use a break from all of this.

i’m not ready yet

It was cold and grey
the day
the sky came crashing down
without warning
the sky is falling
And I will never forget that sound
And you came running
And everyone was running
And I waited for screams that
never came

Is it the end of the world?
Is this the end of the world?
Cause if this is the end of the world,

              I’m not ready yet

Through chilled air there were sirens
muted by silence; muffled by fear
And I stood frozen in time
your hand was in mine
Disbelieving everything

Is it the end of the world?
Is this the end of the world?
Cause if this is the end of the world,

              I’m not ready yet

Through all the chaos
and everything we have lost
like dominos it all fell
one by one
It pulled the trigger, making the worst get bigger
and we’ve fallen in the rabbit hole
down and down
But we will climb back up with time

Now a year has past
since the sky fell
We’re rebuilding our walls
and our foundations
Because it all was shattered
it’s slow piecing it back together
And if it’s the end of world
I don’t want to know

              I’m not ready yet

© cjh
november 2, 2014

sometimes, you just need to be your parents’ little girl again, even if you’re all grown-up

I am still dealing with my PTSD. I am still not quite ok. I am much better than I was 3 months ago, but I am still unable to work a full 5-day work week. I just want to get through March.

Today (Wednesday) and tomorrow (March 27) is the one-year mark for my trauma and the jumper. I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere near downtown this week, I didn’t want to be anywhere near work. So I did something that seems to be quite helpful: I escaped my home and city and came to visit my parents in a completely different Province.

I’m currently blogging from the bottom bed of a bunk bed (I am sadly above the weight limit for the top bunk) in my parents’ house. I have come alone, letting my husband have a much needed vacation from me. 😉 I have been driven around, and fed, and entertained by my parents for the last 2 days and they have made me all of my favourite foods, and even altered some to make them gluten free for me.

I took a train. One-way, since my parents are driving me back home since they were coming back to Montreal this weekend anyhow. I spoiled myself and nabbed a discounted business class train ticket for the trip here. I was served a wonderfully delicious gluten free meal on the train.

(Seriously, Via Rail has managed to impress me three times so far with the quality of their gluten free meals!) (And wine!)

My Mum met me at the train station, since my father was in a course (painting!) and then we hit up the outlet mall so I could look for some new running shoes.  I was in town for less than 20 minutes and I’d already bought shoes. It was a good afternoon.

My parents used to live about 7 minutes away by car. Almost 2 years ago, they moved 3 hours away – from Quebec to Ontario. I have always been a Mommy’s Girl, and when I was sick or scared, or even happy – I’d want my Mummy. When what happened last March happened, I could only call my Mum. This is also the sort of thing you kind of want to protect your parents from anyhow. It’s a rather horrifying event to have happen to you and you know your parents can’t fix what happened. But sometimes, when you’re scared and sad, you just want to be that little girl. The little girl whose parents take care of her and tell her everything will be ok and they will slay your demons for you.

Neither my parents nor my husband could change what happened. They could just stand by me and offer me support and love when I needed it. But my parents live so far away and I went back to work (yes, pretty fast). I thought I was going to be ok. It was rough, I was in shock, I had anxiety and nightmares, but I was working through it.

But then I didn’t want to be around anyone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to see anyone. My parents visited for dinner one day after Christmas, but I didn’t spend much time with them after that.

But this week, this week I wanted to be with them. And so I am. I am being spoiled. I am being cared for. I am currently sitting in a kid’s bunk bed for crying out loud. 😉

My fort.

I might be 38, but the kid in me is happily being taken care of by her parents. Her parents are protecting her and they also have the added bonus of living a heck of a long way away from downtown Montreal and all of its tall buildings where people can jump to their doom.

There’s no stress. No anxiety. I am happier and calmer than I have been in months. Tomorrow’s anniversary (I need another word for this… anniversary is too HAPPY) will be spent here, with my parents. Possibly playing cards or Scrabble. Eating pineapple upside down cake. Cuddling with cats that I shouldn’t be cuddling with because I’m allergic to them. (Sorry, not sorry!)

I miss my husband and I miss my dogs. They are my everything. They have been such a huge part of my healing process. But sometimes… sometimes you just need your parents. There’s a certain kind of comfort that you can only get from your parents. It’s all part of the healing process and right now my healing process is calling for roast beef and pineapple upside down cake. 😉

I love my parents and I am so happy that I have been able to spend this week with them. Friday I go home to my husband and the dogs. Hopefully they have been surviving ok without me. My guess is that all three are just living off of pizza and fries. 😉