It's Over

Whatever little spark has been pushing me to go to school everyday and actually FINISH high school died slowly over the week. Nothing else seems to matter much either. There IS a light at the end of the tunnel, always has been. Trouble is, I'm not getting any closer. I haven't moved forward in 6 years. I don't think I remember how.

I quit. It's over. I'm not giving up on life, don't panic. But the way I'm going about it now isn't working. I haven't seen Louise in a month. I was supposed to see a specialist she referred me too, but her office is too far away, and I really hate using Mum's phone. Louise moved to the same suburb, so I have to find the money for the train before I can go see her.

We're flat broke. No grocery shopping for 3 weeks. Not a slice of bread left in the house. I've reverted back to my old habit of drinking tea when I'm hungry. I think I'm a little dehydrated because of it.

This life is void. It was never going anywhere to start with. I always knew I was born in the wrong body, to the wrong family, in the wrong state. How did I become the person I am in these surroundings? I am the exact opposite of a chameleon. I have to much imagination to be happy with what I have, but not enough to make it into what I want it to be.

I knew this would happen. I told them I needed stability before I went back to school or it would burn me out. I can't do this anymore. It's over. Not that it ever began in the first place.

New Year's Fucking Eve

It's 9:00, and I'm in exactly the situation I promised myself I wouldn't be in on NYE. The fireworks have just started going off, and I can't see them from my house. It seems a good metaphore, as once again, I'm missing out.

Not any more.

Pretty soon my life will be in my own capable hands, and I'll be far away from here, this place, this situation, this state of mind. There are going to be some big goddamn changes in my life, or else. I'm not going to be a coward any longer.

The fireworks and the smell of jasmine in our front garden are messing with my head. At my grandparents' old house our NYE tradition was to climb onto the roof to see the fireworks at Robina Town Center, and Nana's garden always had the incredible smell of jasmine.

This year is going to be different. New decade, new life. There are so many people in my life that just drag me down, and I've put up with it because the people I asked begged for help made excuses and invalidated my fears. There are people who ignored me when they could see I needed help. There are the people that enable my Mum's drinking, even with me crying in the corner. These people will be purged, so I can  finally get on with my life.

There are good people, who want to help, who can help. There are people who have the common sense necessary to be a functional human being. There's a home out there that I haven't found, family that needs to be reminded that they cannot ignore me.

There are changes to be made, and a new era is dawning. The anger I feel has been builing for years, and I am simply incapable of bottling it up any longer. Like the release of the cork from my (imaginary) champagne bottle, everything I've been hiding will be set free.

My New Year's Resolution is this: to be honest. Totally, completely, 100% honest, to everyone. No more little white lies, no more bending the truth to keep secrets, no more making pathetic excuses.

My life up till now has been constricted and controlled so much, by my family, my own anxiety and depression, as well as my cowardice, that it barely counts as a life at all. I will not be that person any more.

I'm off to burn an effigy of my former self.

Happy New Year's, all!

Post-Louise Euphoria

I don't write in this blog nearly enough. For the last few months it seems like all the good ideas and words and phrases that might be useful for a blog entry have been sucked into the giant black hole in my bedroom floor. Today, obviously is different. I've just got back from my second session with my psychologist, Louise. Since I've been seeing her, the black hole in my floor has grown smaller, at least for temporary chunks of time.

I've been seeing counselors on and off since I was 11, but none of them ever helped that much. Jenny, from my first year at high school, and last year when I returned to that school, came close, but I was reluctant to open up to her. I didn't really have the ability to express my thoughts the way I do now. With Louise, however, this is different.

For the first time in my life I feel listened to. That's the thing I love the most about her: she doesn't just hear, and scribble notes, she listens, and thinks and processes. And her office makes me feel safe. Both times I've been to see her, I ran out of tissues, which she immediately replaced, and I still felt safe after she was gone. I also love that she said she'd take me home herself if it wasn't unethical, and that Molly was the coolest name for a cat, ever.


We talked about a lot of stuff (when I say "talked" I mean, "actual useful, intelligent dialogue that helped.") and during this and afterward I felt...I don't even know a word for how I feel. Safe? (seems to be a key word here) Optimistic? Hopeful, even?

I remember after leaving her office the first time, on my way home I was struck by the thought that with this woman's help, I could become a whole person. Silly way to phrase it, I know, but that's how it struck me. A whole person, who acknowledges and accepts all her life experiences, good and bad, and takes responsibility for the emotions attached to them, and is capable of the things that other whole people are. I could have a normal life, without gaping chasms opening up in walls and floors, without fear and anxiety 24/7, with friends I care about and a future to look forward to. To be a whole person, not just a personality.

One thing we talked about, which I have been meaning to mention somehow, but haven't, is my fear of aging. (Friend Josh pointed out to me that "gerascophobia" is the term for fear of aging. Thank you, Friend Josh) It was my birthday 3 weeks ago, and I spent the entire week leading up to it in a state of blind, frantic panic mixed up with terror. By the day before my birthday, I was literally tearing my hair out. (The hair on my head, which I almost never pull out) trying to climb the window panes to escape the now enormous black hole. I decided, for the sake of my sanity, to go on a Time strike. Or, rather, age strike. To simple not acknowledge my age, at all Period. Just stay 16 until I was ready to move on. There are plenty of 30-something-year-olds who say they're 20-something, right? I still look the part, and I don't feel any older, so why not me?

(Louise was out of town all week during this time. Ironic, I know.)

When I mentioned this to Louise, I slipped in something along the lines of, "I know it's stupid and illogical," as I always do when I'm afraid people will say something mean. She pointed out that there were no drastic changes had occurred, no growth spurts or sudden wrinkling etc. Her message came across as, "Age is only a number, and you're only as old as you feel." I still feel 16, it's true, so what does it really matter. She also said it was perfectly alright, and not stupid at all, to wait until I felt 17 to declare my age, mostly to myself, and that I'm still the same person anyway.

She also said not to think about it. Oops.

After getting all my issues out in the open, we made actual, solid plans to make things better. Rellies to talk to, things like that. Discussion was followed by action (or at least the planning of action, with the intention of following through), not just a, "See if you still feel the same way tomorrow morning." We're getting shit done, plugging up the black holes sprinkled across memories and feelings. I still feel like my emotions are all squashed and rung out and gunky, like the crap you scrape out of the plug hole after washing up a load of dishes with pasta baked on, but I also feel like there is a scratch on the surface of what has been boxed up for so long, providing a little light for me.

I do feel hopeful. Life is not only fixable, but worth fixing.
Thank you, Louise.

O Christmas Tree

So. Halloween is over. I didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would. But whatever. That means that my birthday and Christmas are coming up. The other day, I went into another panic attack when my brother asked me if I was looking forward to our birthdays. (We 3 years apart, but our birthdays are in the same week,s o everyone always lumps us together like we're the same fucking person) I'm getting very sick of this living-in-my-head-unable-to-face-reality-and-the-insanely-fast-passage-of-time. I need to get some shit done, for my sanity. The other night I realized that I am really not immune to that often-mentioned daddy complex, and that this is tied in with my fear of aging. Long story, but I realized I need to move on with my life. I still feel 13, but I hope that acting like a 16-year-old will make me grow up. Or something. One good thing about this time of year is the Christmas tree. When I was little, my Nana and I would decorate her tree every year. We never had our own tree, so I kind of adopted hers. We haven't done that for years, not since we moved away. This is my grandparents second Christmas in their new house, and I feel like it's important to do this. I feel like I'm ready to move on and accept the new house after having their old one, my real home brutally ripped out from under them. I'm giving myself permission to do the whole Christmas thing this year. I no longer consider myself a Jehovah's Witness, and feel free to do as I please. And I really do love the holidays. I even talked to Mum about getting our own Christmas tree.

Fear Itself

"There is nothing to fear but fear itself." I really hope this is true. The plans I have been clinging to for dear life the last few years are starting to unravel due to my procrastination. I lost another 3 years. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I'm doing. I understand now that I took the wrong fork in the road, and now I'm teetering on the edge of a cliff, with the ground shaking beneath me, it threatening to crumble out from under me. Normally in such a situation I would take comfort in the fact that I could start again when I hit the bottom of the chasm, but I know there's no bottom. I will just keep falling. And falling. And falling. I know I can prevent this from happening, I can save myself if I can bring myself to ask for help. I'm afraid of that too. The only person I've ever reached out to, who promised to help, flaked on me, not once, but twice. She knew I needed her help. I begged her to help, literally. "I can't really help you, sweetheart, I don't really have the room for another person. Maybe next year." A year later, we actually made plans. But nothing happened. Nada. This is what family is supposed to be for, isn't it? What's the point? I'm not going to let it end this way. I will not end up one of those sad, soulless people on the street. Is it possible to rewrite the past? Can I pretty please have a do-over?

Remarkable Prettybones: Mime-Stalker Extrodinaire

Yesterday I went to the Ekka, and since my journal is full and I'm waiting on a new one, I guess I'll write this here. I found a mime on stilts near the showbag pavillion in the afternoon. He was wearing a black, dusty-looking tailcoat suit. He was bald, with a large hooked nose and a walking stick that looked like an old fashioned lamp post with a candle in it. He had on lots of make-up, fake spiders and snakes all over him, and contact lenses that were white with black Xs over his pupils. He had a rubber rat that he posed with. He was very creepy looking, but moved so daintily, and he always had his pinkys up. When I first saw him I was with Jerome, and I told him to give him some of his fairy floss. When he took a bit, the whole lot came with it. He made a funny surprised face and raised his hand to his cheek before Jerome pulled most of the floss back. He shook my hand, too. After racing back to the dairy cow pavillion to get Mum, I followed him around for the whole afternoon. One man stole his rat, so he took his wife by the arm and started to lead her away, until the man gave the rat back. He was incredible to watch. With every step he took, he gathered more people. He made them laugh, surprised them and scared them silly, as well as giving them a wonderful memory to keep, all without uttering a sound. I've always wanted to be a performer, but I've never known where to start. Seeing this guy brought up a whole new perspective on this kind of performance. I followed him around until it started to get dark, then he went behind a screen that had a sign on it that said "No Entry, Authourised Personnel Only". I figured that was where teh dressing rooms were, so I waited outside for about 2 hours. (It gets very cold quickly in winter, I've never realized just how quickly.) The whole time I was supposed to be meeting up with Mum, and it was by sheer luck that I found her, as there was a smoking area (kind of like a small pen for people) across from the dressing rooms. We both waited until came out, because I wanted to find out about his character, and how he got into this line of work. When he emerge, clean-faced and dressed in jeans an a polo shirt, he was wheeling a bicycle. he introduced himself as Frans, and I asked him about his character. It's called "The Gentleman" and is based on a character on an episode of Buffy. He answered all my questions gladly, even though he was obviously as cold as I was, and his wife was waiting in a No Parking Zone to pick him up. He's from Holland,where he's studied all sorts of performance arts with people like Marcel Marceau! He's also dyslexic, which is part of the reason why he loves mime so much. He gave me all sorts of useful information, telling me about circus training programs in Brisbane and on the Gold Coast. His wife is part of the Volcana Womens' Circus, and he encouraged me to get as much practical experiance as possible, and to start young. Mum told him about the character I made up for my self while I was watching him, which embarrassed me a lot, especially when she asked me to explain it to him. We exchanged emails and he gave me the name of his website. I'm so glad I didn't chiken out. I almost didn't even think about it. I'm going to remember this as a prime example of the good things that can happen when I ignore my shyness. Now I'm off to research the Circus University, another of Frans' recommendations. It's the only circus uni in the world, and it has campuses in Melbourne and Sydney! Love, Remarkable

Mid-year's resolutions

Alright, so it's the middle of July, but like they say, there's no time like the present. My list of goals (mid-year resolutions, if you will) the I aim to have completed at least some of them by the end of the year. 1.Finish my Paradise Kids story. The Paradise Kids book is a project started by Hannah and Luke, of www.hannahluke.com and they've asked me to write a story for their latest fund raising project, a book written by children who've lived through some pretty tough shit. Check out their website, help raise money for the Hopewell Hospice and Paradise Kids, my local counseling center! 2. Get a job! 3. Learn not to be afraid of spending money. I've sort of had this programmed fear of spending money on myself. I'm determined to conquer it. 4. Get my learner's. Possibly P's, depending on time. 5. Stand up for myself. This is a biggie because I used to let myself get pushed around a lot. I've been working on being more assertive, but I've yet to put it into practice. 6. Establish my personal style. Been working on it for a while, lots of different elements that will take skill to combine. 7. Talk to my counselor/shrink more often. No explanation needed, surely. 8. Legally change my name. This is something that I've wanted to do since I was a wee tot. I've been through hell trying to find a name that "fits" me, and I've been putting off signing anything until I was sure. Now, I'm sure, and given the amount of paperwork I've been bombarded with since turning 16, Now would be the perfect time to do this, before I have any other red tape to deal with. 9. Go back to work for Sam. Sam was a woman I did work experience for last year, though I was so far in my shell that I barely talked at all and spent 3 or 4 days of the actual work experience time hiding in my bed. Now that I'm not so pathetic, I want to go back to work, albeit unpaid, for her, and do a better job! (Side note: I think this is the first time in ages I've actually wanted to make someone proud of me...) 10. Go back to school. The last three years have been a mess, and during that time I've had to repeat grade 10. Three times. This was largely due to the fact that my only pillar of support was crumbling underneath me, and I was to afraid to face the reality of it all, so I just metaphorically curled up in a ball with my eyes shut. I missed out on a lot, and I was younger than my classmates, so I'm not really that far behind. This also has a lot to do with #11. 11. Tell the truth. No more bottling up emotions until I want to blast someone with a 12-gauge shotgun. 12. Revisit Laidley. A wretched cesspool of delinquency and misery. This was one of the places my mother moved us too during her three year long alcohol binge. there was something about the place that made me terrified to look outside, lest I be confronted with the realities of living in a town of uninspired beings. I've always promised myself I'd go back and show it that I wasn't afraid...or something like that. This one ties in with #9, since Sam lives and works in Laidley. 13. Get back in touch with old friends. Another thing that I fucked up and am angry at myself about. Again, it was because of that horrible black cloud. 14. Make new friends. See #10. 15. Join a club. I've never been in one (unless you count Computer Gym when I was 4) 16. Commit an act of silly teenage rebellion. I'm thinking...candy-apple red hair. Maybe a piercing? 17. Sing in public. I'm a good singer, and I know it. I love to sing, but I care far to much about what others think. I'm going to change that. 18. Sew something I'm proud of. A simple sundress or something. 19. See a symphony/ballet/opera or similar. Big fan, but I've never actually seen one outside of a television screen. 20. See Alice Cooper in concert!! He is my personal savior. His music and imagery helped me see a side of myself that I had previously been taught to ignore. Every yearning for self-improvement, every desire to try something new, everything that I've changed in my life was inspired by him. He's doing a show in Brisbane in August, it's a brand new show, new storyline and everything, and I am *definitely* going to be there to see it. 21. Go to an art gallery. And enjoy it. 23. Busk in the street. Some sort of street performance anyway. 24. Seduce an older man. This may seem like an odd one, since I've absolutely no experience whatsoever with the opposite sex, but it's something I've always wanted to do. 25. Finish grade 11. See #10. 26. Reach out to the strangers who inspire me. These include, but are not limited to: Alice Cooper, Emilie Autumn, Marilyn Manson, Amanda Palmer, Destroyx and Z00g, Gala Darling, Doe Deere...aaaaaaaaand anyone else I can think of. 27. Cook a whole meal and eat it with dear friends. At least an entree, main and dessert. 28. Have a memory-worthy Christmas. No fights, no religious clashes, plenty of photos and funny hats. 29. Have more people know me by one of the names I've picked for myself. My birth name is hereby reserved for those closest to me only. If you haven't seen me naked, you're not allowed to know what it is. (It should be noted that seeing me naked isn't the only prerequisite needed, nor is it absolutely necessary) Either Remarkable Prettybones or Tabitha, thank you very much. 30. Have a Sweet 17. May or may not tie in with #29. Last year, my 16th, was the only time I've chosen to celebrate my birthday, due to misguided religious piety. Long story short, Mum got stone drunk and we ended up stranded in Robina, no trains or buses (no car, due to previous nights spent intoxicated in a vile stupor) with her screaming at me that it was my fault. I spoke up for the first time, though it didn't make a difference) I'm going to throw a picnic or something, and Mum isn't invited, so there. 32. Get to know the owner of a vintage record shop. And in the process expand my musical knowledge. 33. Hire violin/piano teacher. I've been playing violin for about six months now, and I've gotten as far as I can on my own. I also want to take up piano, but given how frustrating it has been learning violin without a pro there to answer questions, I don't want to go it alone. 34. Learn to play guitar. Dunno if I'll need help with this one. 35. Start a blog. Done! Now if I can just figure out how to do that strike-through thingy.