Everyone you know is going to die.

 After watching someone I care about struggle through months of hard work sorting through the life (and stuff) of a loved one, I would like to ask you all to please discuss wills and testaments with your loved ones. 

Especially your parents. But, also your partners and friends. Hell, even your pets need godparents.

We are all going to die someday, and sometimes shit happens.

To this day, my mother is asked for my father's death certificate whenever she make a financial or legal move. Dying is a bureaucratic nightmare FYI.

 Some people leave so much behind - and it is a prepared act of love to leave your loved ones with clear instructions and managed affairs. 

You're gonna die honey, leave your loved ones with as little to worry about as possible, they're already bummed, don't add to it.


♥

The house that life built.

The last few months have been intense in general because of work and work stressors.

The last few weeks have just been a whirlwind of decisions and luck.

I've been looking at condos and small mini-houses for years. In hopes that I'd learn about the housing market, and you know, also just look at what is out there.

In the last year because of my finally getting a liveable-wage I started looking more seriously, and when a duplex came onto the market I visited with my mother and she started considering that joint venture - something that would benefit us both.

Two weeks ago, on a Tuesday a duplex went on sale in the "old town" of our town. Water-front, historical, and adorable. I was the first to call, it had not yet gone live on all platforms. My mother and I were the first to visit, Wednesday. Of that evening, we were the first of 6 to visit. We made an offer on Friday. Another couple was making an offer on Monday. She presented the offers that Tuesday (one week after the duplex went live) but the other couple pulled out last minute, so our offer was the only one, and it was accepted.

The following Monday we had an inspection. And now next Friday we are having an electrician come in per the suggestions of the inspector. Things are aligning.

Lots of stuff can happen. Financing can fall through, we could find that the place is made entirely of asbestos and batshit - it's just early days.

The first night after making the offer I had a nightmare-induced panic attack that was semi-conscious.

This brings up a lot for me. Financial stability. My ability to "take care of myself," dependence on my mother, fears of my mother passing away and me being solely responsible, my getting sick and not being able to hold-up my side of the bargain. Lots of stuff.

It's also a dream realized. Old town is a childhood dream. A duplex is a sound investment. I'd finally be getting my own living space.

During this time, one of my oldest friends is also visiting from out of province. So it's been socially busy.

Add to all of this, the timing of my contract coming up for renewal, and a job interview for another job that would be closer to home.

All of this in about a 2.5 week period.

Needless to say I'm pooped.

Things are happening.

I'm not overly excited or stressed because so many things are dependent on other things.

I have a "wait and see" mentality on it all.

I  miss writing here, and I look forward to taking the time to write again soon.

Right now it's one day at a time, but for the first time in a long time, it's not a depression-based mantra.

Also, I took out my Mirena, so we'll see if removing my IUD lessens my depression.

Old dog learning new tricks.

It's been longer than a minute, I know. I've been meaning to sit and update, but when I'm at work all day on a computer I don't want to re-commit to a screen when I get home.

I've been at the new job for about a month and a half now and overall it's going well. There's still a lot of learning and training but overall I'm happy with my choice.

It being a "real job" with less down time means I can't log into my personal accounts while at work. Hence, less updating on here.

Sometimes I'd have entire days where I'd be waiting for work so I'd write or I'd work on other things.

When things settle maybe I'll have more time to write, but right now I'm still trying to figure out my schedule and my hours and what my life will look like while working a decent job.

I'm also only on a one-year contract, so there's still a lot of anxiety about job security.

The new job was a salary bump, and the same week I started our union signed a new collective agreement so my salary went up again. This amounts to sorcery since in the private sector capitalist models determine whether or not you're worth a salary boost. Basically, this means sales jobs get bonuses and raises and administrative staff get shit.

My salary has gone up by nearly 7 grand, or, to put it more accurately, it's reached a living wage. I still haven't received a proper pay check, but once I do I'll be able to see how much money I'll be making, and I can start putting money away for my house/condo.

I've been coming home after long days of training, and sometimes I'm so overwhelmed I just go to bed. It's been a lot.

But, the work conditions are better, the hours are better, and the forthcoming benefits are better. There are actual distinctions now in days off. Sick days. Vacation days. Volunteer days. Family-leave days. Before it was all my vacation time. Now I have an allotment for each. Since you know, you can get sick, a parent can get ill, roads can be closed, and other stuff fucking happens. Life fucking happens.

The new hires who started with me are both great, and my stress level has gone down significantly. It's nice to know I have a job where I actually do something. I see my accomplishments daily. They're tangible.

A good job helps. A living wage helps.

Along with all of this I've been actively looking to adopt a dog since I have the funds now to properly care for one. This is an ongoing project. It's difficult to adopt a younger dog. It's difficult to adopt a smaller dog. These are "in demand" dogs and I can't be everywhere looking for pooches. Size and age is a consideration because I'll be caring for the dog with the help of my mother, who will be the daytime caretaker. She doesn't want to wrangle anything, so size is an issue. I'd also like to train my own dog - so younger is preferable.

On top of all of this, my town has breed bans, so there are a number of dogs I am not even allowed to own. A lot of the dogs I've loved at the refuge have been pit-bulls, and they're on the ban list. A lot of pit-mixes are, which is a shame. I really love them, they're big babies.

So I'm keeping my eyes peeled for dogs that need adopting - but it's hard, people adopt quickly and there are a lot of factors to consider.

My friend C also came down from British-Columbia for nearly 2 weeks. This had me socializing and going out a lot. Probably more than I usually do in half a calendar year.

With my bi-weekly volounteering and some packed weekends, it's just been pretty nuts.

I happen to be online right now because a friend needed me to make a postcard design for her real quick while a printer we use is having a 25% off sale. So here I am, on the inter-webs.

I'll try and make more of an effort to take the time to update, or to sit and write on a given subject.

Wish me luck at living a life,
K.

P.S - No news on TMS, I assume my fax is at the bottom of a pile somewhere.

Watch Big Little Lies.

Illustration by Keith Negley

I very much enjoyed Big Little Lies. As the series unfolded I had my suspicions and theories, and eventually grew worried it would let me down, but it did not.

It represented friendships and women in a very honest way and did not fall into any misogynist tropes about whether or not women can be truly supportive of one another.



Spoiler alert on these linked articles!

In Its Final Moments, Big Little Lies Transcends Its White Feminism

From THE SURPRISING GENEROSITY OF “BIG LITTLE LIES”:

In one lovely scene, Jane tells her new friends how detached she feels, as if she were peering at them from far away rather than sitting with the two of them. As Madeline chatters, Celeste stays quiet, locking eyes with Jane. The camera holds on the two of them, capturing the early alchemy of a friendship—and the suggestion that, even in mean-girl world, women might choose to be allies instead of enemies.

That's my main takeaway. I was adamant that the ending feature a show of solidarity, which seemed imminent. These women were able to talk to each other properly after really intense confrontations. Smart, empathetic women can see when they've been wrong and can see what's going on. Even if I disliked someone, I wouldn't stand for them being assaulted in my presence. Women stand up for one another much more than is represented in media and film. 

The praise Nicole Kidman is getting is deserved. And there are times Reese Witherspoon stopped me in my tracks. I wish they could each get an Emmy. They both deserve it. The entire cast was exquisite.

Highly recommended. If you can, watch it in tandem with a friend so you can talk about it.

UPDATE (April 6th), adding this:

Big Little Lies’ most riveting moments are the silent ones between womenThe HBO drama is a stunning study in the unspoken language women use to survive.

YES YES. This this this:

In seconds, and with the threatening man in question standing mere feet away, these women trust each other completely. It’s an unflinching instant of wordless recognition, an understanding so deep that speaking its underlying fear aloud is unnecessary. It’s a feeling of awful, vital solidarity — one that I, and countless other women, know all too well.

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

Identity theft.

Note to whoever is trying to steal my identity: I'm in my 30's making under 40k living in my mother's basement. Aim higher.

— krimrat (@krimrat) March 14, 2017

Friday I came home to a notice from the post office that claimed I had purchased mail-forwarding and to contact them if this wasn't the case. It was not, so I called. Turns out someone purchased a mail-forward for three weeks, on my name, and my address.

The post office canceled it. And are now looking into mail fraud.

So, Monday (yesterday) I received a pre-approved credit card. I had fraud on the brain since I'd just received that mail notice so I called and made sure the bank knew it was fraud and to look into it. Turns out the fraudster opened an account with that bank, and that the credit card was approved for 11,000$.

My current credit card limit is a grand, so just thinking about having access to that much debt makes me sick to my stomach.

I then had to call my bank to put a flag on my accounts.

Today I had to call two credit unions to put flags on my accounts, and to look into any odd activity. Turns out they contacted one of them on March 2nd attempting to access my credit report.

I'm satisfied with my handling of it so far, but it still makes me nervous.

At work, four other people are dealing with credit card fraud, but I'm the only one who also had the mail thing done, and had an actual bank account opened and a credit card ordered. I guess they saw my thousand dollar limit and maxed-out account and decided it would just be easier to start from scratch since I'm too broke to rob.

Too broke to rob. Let's go for fraud.

That's probably their shit-bag anthem.

What happened to Robin Hooding? Have a pseudo-moral code and focus on folks with money. Don't fuck with the working poor you fucking shit.

I don't know what the likelihood is of someone being caught - credit card fraud seems common enough, and I'm guessing people don't casually commit identity theft, they gotta be motivated.

That "creative" life.

meeting your hero pic.twitter.com/9720yHHuKJ

— Alex Norris (@dorrismccomics) February 1, 2017

Happiness makes you less creative.

According to some research, happiness makes you less creative:

Rigor is the key to overcoming obstacles and completing tasks—and good mood doesn’t improve problem-solving, which involves judgments that almost by necessity won’t feel good: critique and evaluation, experimentation and failure. The stress that arises from problems may be unpleasant but it also motivates us to complete tasks... In other words, negative emotions are actually beneficial to the creative process.

I mean, duh, in some ways...

This study seems to be based in the workplace, which in itself creates a very specific frame in which to work. 

I'd argue that highs and lows are necessary as a writer or as an artist who communicated heavier narratives. But, I think it depends on the art. Happy-people-art doesn't really speak to me. It's not in my language. Art about someone getting shat on by a bird, that speaks to me. That's relatable. 

Since this study speaks to work-place stress/happiness, I'd argue that people who feel less secure at work or aren't as happy also have work-place performance fears and pressure. That also changes the way you function and produce.

In my experience creativity also takes time and energy, and the correlation of that time and energy isn't easily dropped into a capitalist framework. 

I've always had a shit time charging for my time. I hate it. It's why I can't work for myself creatively. When I'm depressed I feel like my time is worth shit, and when I'm not I just feel a tremendous amount of guilt and pressure asking for a livable sum.

Recently I referred a potential client to a friend, what he quotes 600$ for I would  have done for 20$ an hour. No doubt he'd walk away from that in a much better place than I.

I resent needing to ask for money. I don't want to sell my wares. I'm my own patron for now. Etsy'll have to do. 

Pay-day.

Within minutes.

Job panic.

I’m having a bit of a job-panic. I’m grasping for straws and sending out flares. 

This week at work our receptionist is on holiday. I’m filling in. There’s no big graphic design project happening, so I’m doing what I can from the front desk and everything else can wait. This means I have access to the stamp machine so I’ve been mailing out letters and receiving mail (something I consider fun). I still feel like I’m “playing secretary,” which I enjoy. 

This also means I have more time to write, or go online, or check stuff out. I just have to be at the computer. If I was really “free” to look as bored as I am I’d just sit here and read, but that would irritate everyone so instead I’m writing. I’m writing this. This right now.

I’ve been looking for work for the last month or so. Ideally something not in the city, with a salary of more than 40 G. It hasn’t been easy. I’ve joined all sorts of federal government candidacy pools, but at this point I really just think they’re roads to nowhere. 

I get in these little panicky fits where I just consider everything under the sun. Like, hey maybe I could get a special driver’s license and just start driving snowplows or trucks or something.

I can understand that no job is perfect, and that I’ll probably mildly resent whatever it is I end up doing to pay the bills, but it would be nice to do something that in fact does pay those bills. Living paycheck to paycheck isn’t cute. I’m sick of living with my mother. I want my own space, no matter how small.

A recent survey out of the UK identified that about 35% of Brits identify their jobs as “bullshit” jobs, that have no real value. This doesn't surprise me at all. Especially as someone who has worked in marketing a lot, which I've come to just see as a lie-based / let's pretend this is super important even though it totally isn't - department. So much of sales and marketing is just lies and magic tricks. So much bullshit in capitalism.

For the last decades, all the jobs I've had have put money in someone else's pockets. At least working for a social system or a non-profit you know there's a greater good. 

I've been thinking that since the job market seems so unstable, maybe what would be best would be to get two part-time jobs. Or, work here 4 days a week, and then work another job 2 days a week. 

I know I could find work in a call center, but that's a last resort. It's just so soul-crushing. 

I just get these fits of panic. I want to try and find a solution to this uneasiness. 

I don't trust the job market. I don't feel secure in my skills or education. I don't feel I'm owed a job or any type of security. So what can I do about it? Diversify? Join the army? I'm too fat. And sensitive. Plus I don't wanna be yelled at. It's like, calm down fuck. 

What else is there? I can't go back to university, I'm too broke. I could maybe do an apprenticeship or try and learn a new skill. I'm hesitant to overly-invest in design, though maybe I could do more research in cost-effective design sales on Etsy.

Christ. I'm going cuckoo.

I wish I could get a glimpse into the future. 

The fact of it is, I feel intellectually damaged. I work within limitations. And I don't feel I can over-exert myself. I don't feel gifted, or especially smart and it makes me worry about my ability to take care of myself. Especially, and primarily, financially. 

I know the past decade has taken its toll on my self-confidence. I don't think it's especially revelatory for me to state that, but it's got me in this post-haze space where I'm trying to figure out what my limits really are. My comfort-zone hasn't been that comfortable and I'm now unsure about what it is I'm tethered to.

I don't want to define myself by a job, and I'm trying not to. I just want something decent. I'm alright where I am, for now, but I don't feel secure here. The work has ups and downs and the place has not been stable since I started in 2014.

How can it be I feel so useless half the time, but when I take a step back I'm usually frustrated at the less-than productive pace of others? 

I know that life-long employment under one employer is now mostly myth and legend, so I need to get that out of my head, but I do need to figure out what to do, and how best to do it.

Right now I'm working here, I have money coming in, and I'll only leave for something better in salary and working conditions, or in a better environment or proximity to my home. Looking through job postings is difficult and discouraging. Seeing minimum-wage postings makes me wonder about how it is a person lives off of that. I can barely survive off of my salary. 

I'm also conscious of the criticism of millennials, that they expect instant recognition and aren't willing to work for it. Though I'm in my 30's, I seem to be grouped in with kids 15 years younger than me. 

It's difficult to think about what I want, while also thinking about what it is that is.

What does 2020 look like? 

Are people buying houses? Is there a housing bubble in Canada right now? It seems a bad time to buy, since most houses are over-inflated / not worth what's being asked. I don't want to sign a contract for a car, for a cell phone for anything, my money isn't set, I can't commit to payments.

I'm just in a little bit of a spiral right now. 

Do you have career advice for me? Money advice?

Some money you'd like to give me?

An old country house I can go hide in?

Fuck fat loss / You do not exist to be used.

Just read Fuck Fat Loss, and “You Do Not Exist To Be Used”: Dismantling Ideas of Productivity in Life Purpose by Gillian Giles.

Both have complimentary narratives on the body.

From Fuck Fat Loss:

For me, actually loving my body has come to mean honoring those things that I don’t totally understand, and practicing lots of non-attachment to outcomes related to its size and shape. I actually trust my body to do it’s job (which is to keep me alive, not to make me attractive to people who only have one idea about what that word even means). I believe it when it tells me it’s hungry. I believe it when it tells me it’s tired. I believe it when it wants to move, and when it wants to rest. Okay- I try to. It’s not always easy! No one taught me how to do that, In fact, I’ve been taught the exact opposite for my entire life.
...
I have decided that my job isn’t to discipline my body, my job is to care for it, to safeguard it, to be generous and gentle with it, and to thank it for taking me through my days. It is not my enemy. My love for it is not conditional on it fitting into a certain pair of pants, moving at a certain speed, accomplishing a particular task.

Self-love and self-care have been actively germinating over the last several months. They're a work in progress. Her post eventually references chronic illness as a caveat to "trusting your body" since it's a different reality. In my case, I can't entirely trust my body since I'm reliant on medication. My mind is fragile, and it's a constant. 

Having the ability to listen to your body is a skill as well. Especially if part of you has willingly forged a disconnect, a valley of small cuts. 

From You Do Not Exist To Be Used:

Unfortunately, shame, stigma and isolation are all too common experiences for those unable to keep up with the expectations of productivity. 

From a young age we are taught that our bodies and our purpose is to produce within effective normative means. That in order to be something of worth, you must prove productivity. The ideology of productivity in life purpose extends far beyond the school system. Expectations of productivity range from being able to get out of bed on a bad day, reproduce children, ride a bike or be successful in an academic task. In failing to be useful, we are told we are not of value or valued as less than. It is these bodies that fail to meet social standards of productivity that are most often marginalized.

Within the economic and social landscape, the bifurcation of the normative abled bodied citizen and disabled one creates an assumption that a proper citizen is an able productive one, that the economic and social value of personhood is conflated with restrictive notions of productivity. The result of this binary is that the disabled body is rendered as other, less useful then simply as just less. 

It is the inherent ableism of society, of capitalism’s productivity, that teaches us that we must be of use, that we are tools to be used to produce and that our entirety our purpose is hinged on a framework of productivity.

These are themes I've been struggling with over the last few years, especially this year, as I've been unhappy with my 9 to 5 day job. 

Working creatively has been hard. On bad days I feel useless, and I don't feel good enough to be making a living off my my creativity or whatever skills I have.  I don't always have the wherewithal to be pushed. 

I've also not had a "good" creative job with a competitive salary for the last decade. Right now I am still living pay-check to pay-check. I live in my mother's basement to pay cheaper rent. On bad days I feel barely employable and incapable of "taking care of myself" since I can't afford 800$ a month rent and the costs of living on ones own. 

When friends ask for services, I do everything for free. Yes, to help, but also because asking for payment is uncomfortable and I am not comfortable equating a financial sum to the quality of my workmanship. 

What I do these days is make small things for Etsy, letting that shop and culture dictate whether or not it i interested in my work. I am passive to the situation. 

Productivity is a difficult marker to step away from. Today I received new postcards I designed. I packaged them. I photographed them for Etsy. I posted them on Etsy and on my portfolio website. I shared a photograph over Instagram. I felt productive, and felt I could take an afternoon nap without guilt. I earned that nap, through doing something.

I would assess my my work-life balance as pretty good. Where I take issue is with the capitalization of my work, and the value of my productivity. It's difficult to think about and find my place in. 

I look at people I use to be friends with, who make a lot of money and are very productive and business minded, and I often feel shame around being lazy and not having lived up to any kind of potential I may have had when I was young and had energy. 

Though this may have been more of a sore spot in the past, these days I'm quick to dismiss it, since it's a question of priorities. We do the best we can. We prioritize daily (whether consciously or not) and we just get through the day. 

Being critical of the way our bodies are relegated to tools for productivity is important, since we do not have to succumb to that framework for our own self-worth, but it is difficult to escape altogether since we do live in a capitalist system, we do need to work to live, to pay the bills and to take care of ourselves. 

I have to take care of myself. And I'm not especially good at it. 

(Half) facing it.

Not a great day today. Not the best of moods.

I'm tired, and last night I felt weird and off. My mouth tastes like metal because of the steroids, and I'm feeling slow.

I don't know what's to be expected and what's psycho-somatic.

The prognosis on Wikipedia also mentioned how earlier healing is a good sign, so I'm well aware if things don't start improving in the next two weeks, things could be long for me. A co-workers buddy had it for over 9 months. That's significant. From Wikipedia:

Most people with Bell's palsy start to regain normal facial function within 3 weeks—even those who do not receive treatment. In a 1982 study, when no treatment was available, of 1,011 patients, 85% showed first signs of recovery within 3 weeks after onset. For the other 15%, recovery occurred 3–6 months later. After a follow-up of at least 1 year or until restoration, complete recovery had occurred in more than two-thirds (71%) of all patients. Recovery was judged moderate in 12% and poor in only 4% of patients.Another study found that incomplete palsies disappear entirely, nearly always in the course of one month. The patients who regain movement within the first two weeks nearly always remit entirely. When remission does not occur until the third week or later, a significantly greater part of the patients develop sequelae. A third study found a better prognosis for young patients, aged below 10 years old, while the patients over 61 years old presented a worse prognosis.

 Also, some "facts" according to Canada.com Health:

• Men or women of any age can suffer Bell's palsy, but statistics suggest that people aged 20 to 35 are at a slightly higher-than-average risk. 
• Your risk of experiencing Bell's palsy in our lifetime is about 1 in 60.
• Japanese research has found that 80% of cases can be traced to the common virus called herpes simplex 1, the virus that causes cold sores. The virus infects the seventh cranial (facial) nerve, which helps control the muscles associated with facial expression. As the nerve swells up, it starts to malfunction.
• There is no known way of preventing Bell's palsy.

I guess it helps as I read more and as I am more informed. Sometimes I read articles that are like, "it's so temporary and you'll see improvements in 3-4 weeks!" But other times it's stories like, "I had it for over a year, my face never fully healed, and now I have synkinesis, and crocodile tear syndrome." So it's kind of a crap shoot.

So, synkinesis is when the new nerve paths make links to other nerves while regenerating, so every-time you might smile, your eye might blink, or curve a certain way.

And Crocodile Tear Syndrome, from what I understand, would mean tearing up when hungry, or when eating. For some reason this is kind of funny to me. I guess it depends how bad it would be. It's just kind of absurd as a chubby girl, to cry when you're hungry. 

Speaking of that, being chubby and hungry that is, the steroids are making me rage-hungry. Not in a craving kind of way, in a real "I need to eat" kind of way.  

I'm trying to up my water intake too, I'm always thirsty. 

Today I have my yearly work review, which, let's face it, will be awkward and hard. I was worried about it before, since I've been waiting for a raise for 2 years, and now I'm impaired and not really able to work as much or as hard so it's hard to feel justified in expecting a living wage. 

It's weighing on me. I'm looking forward to it being over, but I'm so tired, and I'm worried about "rolling over" to not being compensated properly. I also just really don't know what to expect since there have been so many changes company-wide. I've been where I am for over 2 years, and it's been rock and roll since I got here. Lay-off's and retirements and buy-outs and project cancellations and big contracts and drama, and I just don't feel secure. 

Work stress and money stress do not help. But they've been constant since my lay-off prior to this job. It's not a great job economy and I know I'm lucky to have a job, even if I'm under-used and over-qualified. I don't make good money, but I do make some, and that's not nothing.

I know I don't have to be grateful for what I have, but it's hard for me not to be. I am. It could always be worse. It's a mentality that gets me through, and it's hard to see things otherwise. 

It could always be worse. 

I Can't Feel (half of) My Face.

Technically this is incorrect. I can indeed feel my face, I just can't move it.

Last night I went to bed earlier, before 9 pm, I think it helped. A few colleagues who hadn't been in yet this week saw me today, so I've done the introduction to society bit, just like a débutante!

My mom is coming into the city today, we're going to go for lunch and meet with our tax guy to sign our tax returns for 2015. Fingers-crossed I get a decent return this year, it would be nice.

Pray for my tiny pile of money! Well, it's a bit of a hole now, so maybe pray that it be less of a hole and more of a wee pile.

Help me gods I don't believe in! Help me Tom Cruise!

Everything is expensive. Please be less expensive everything.

So on a slow day at work I had started to look into further training and classes I could take. 

I get bored sometimes, and I also worry about my job security and my employability.

I ended up on the OCAD website, taking a look at their Inclusive Design master's degree. 

Turns out, their inclusive design graduate degree is made pretty exclusive by the 20,000$ price-tag. 

I think inclusive design could be an interesting field, and find it especially interesting in regards to mental health. While in crisis, sometimes I'm non-verbal. Design tools that cater to that, and that aim for a non-verbal representation of needs could be really helpful. 

I was introduced to K through a buddy while in Victoria. K is doing a masters revolving around disability at Concordia University. We talked at length on a beach in Victoria (not too shabby). She recommended Feminist Queer Crip and On Being Ill by Virginia Woolf. Both are on my to-read reading list. 

I hope I can talk to her about her experience with the Concordia master's program - I think she's doing it with the school of fine art though - I'm not sure.

I feel kind of stuck these days. I don't have much money coming in. I still have some credit card debt to pay off, I have a minimum amount saved up for a down-payment (10,000$) and now time is just passing. I'm still living pay-check to pay-check. I guess I just feel I need a project. 

I'm attempting to take better care of myself but I have good days and bad days. I haven't been cooking. 

I went for brunch with a buddy yesterday and she talked about her having greatly benefited from an elimination diet, which helped her figure out which foods aggravate her fibromyalgia and chronic eczema. We talked about it at length, since she says she feels drastically different, and feels her general mood, depression and energy have changed for the better. 

She's not one to preach on this kind of stuff, but she said I might find it interesting and helpful, which I might. I do feel lethargic and tired after bread and carbs, so I would probably see a big difference in reducing my wheat consumption. 

I am thinking about housing and I'm thinking about work and I'm thinking about what I want, and I just go back and forth on a lot of it. Sometimes I'm bored and feel like I could do more. Other times I feel like I should limit my responsibilities and commit to the least amount possible. 

Ups and downs. 

Falling forward through time.

I haven't been able to bring myself to write lately. It just seems like time has been slipping away from me. Work has been busier, which makes a huge difference. I can usually read online and fart around creatively when I'm waiting on work. I've also been pretty tired in the evenings. I've been trying to cook a lot, and cook healthy, fresh foods, so that takes up more of my time. I've also been pretty social, if I plan something on Saturdays and Sundays, it's as if I lose all free time. 

This month has flown by. My birthday is in early January, and it's usually a not-great time for me. I'm trying to learn to celebrate that I'm still alive, and that people care about me, but for years it's always been a disappointment. My birthday is right after the holidays, people are broke and tired. I end up feeling my birthday is an inconvenience and is easily ignored or forgotten.

In roughly two weeks I'll be going out to BC to visit my friend C. Dr. Rishi has recommended I plan something for myself to look forward to, so I am, indeed, looking forward to it. It's be a nice mental break. It'll be good to see C and her new house. It'll be good to take in the sea and the area. I scheduled a small tattoo for myself of one of my illustrations (already paid for). Most importantly of all, I paid for the ticket with air miles. I don't have a grand to spend on a ticket. Not when I'm trying to save up to buy something.

So I'm going to BC. It might be nice to be somewhere else. To walk around. To breathe different air. To see a friend. To chat. To cuddle a dog. It's also warmer there, significantly. She's on Vancouver Island, so there's some kind of magical micro-climate there. For example it's 10°C where she lives right now and it's -6°C here.

I'm reading The Visiting Privilege by Joy Williams right now and there's this short story that moves through time and it's just beautiful and stirring. It took me a while to warm up to her book, some of the stories are very removed and are written with distance. But some, like The Excursion really fascinated me. The New York Times describes her as "one of the greatest chroniclers of humanity’s insignificance." Reading that clicked her work into place for me.

In Williams’s precise, unsparing, surprising prose, her characters reach for the sublime but often fall miserably to earth: ‘‘Sam and Elizabeth met as people usually meet. Suddenly, there was a deceptive light in the darkness. A light that blackly reminded the lonely of the darkness.’’ She has a gift for sentences whose unsettling turns — ‘‘While she was thinking of something perfectly balanced and amusing to say, the baby was born’’ — force readers to grapple, just as her characters grapple, with the way life will do what it wants with you.

Her work is so removed, so unsentimental.

Joy Williams likes a good road trip, so let’s take one through a Joy Williams story. The road is familiar — you recognize the religious undertones; the dark humor; the animals flapping overhead and squashed on the pavement. You smile at Williams’s disarming manner of juxtaposing words, pressing unsettling meanings out of them: ‘‘The two women sat in the living room surrounded by wooden ducks. The ducks, exquisite and oppressive, nested on every surface.’’ You think you know the route you’re taking, but after a few detours and hairpin turns you may have lost track of how you’re ever supposed to get to where you’re meant to go. The ride might end with the squeal of brakes and shattering of glass. It might also be beautiful: 

The car flipped over twice, miraculously righted itself and skidded back onto the road, the roof and fenders crushed. ... None of them were injured and at first they denied that anything unusual had happened at all. May said, ‘‘I thought it was just a dream, so I kept on going.’’

This is it. This type of removed way she writes about brutal, daily life, and how the absurd and the routine are lined up against that brutality and how narrative moves through them both so effortlessly. There is no real relationship to the characters. Her stories are intentionally alienating, which is something I haven't experienced before.

Her work really presents my own disassociation to me. Moving through memory and present time, through wants and dreams and should's and have to's.

I'm asking myself a lot of questions lately, but I'm also attempting to swallow my need for patience. I need to make decisions. To prepare. To choose one option over another, and reading Williams' makes it all seem less important. Less permanent.

That's the mirror she's created. We're impermanent, and at a glance, we're often absurd and hard to understand. In some moments, we're genius. At other times, we're the worst. And when sweetness presents itself, it's a glorious treat.

I'm a wittle sick baby.

I went to bed with wet hair (not unusual) and woke up with a sore throat. I think I have a cold. I'm not too bad, per se, I'm just slightly sick. So far.

My barometer is pretty high, since throughout university and then art school every winter break I would get strep throat, with the exception of the year I got pneumonia. It's always my throat (blame it on bulimia) and it's usually when vacation time comes around and I try to relax.

I went to bed early last night and watched a few episodes of Jessica Jones and then passed out. I've been taking echinacea, so hopefully I can avoid a full-out sickness thing. I also got the flu shot this year, so ideally I'll avoid that shit show. I can't afford to miss that much work. Nothing is actually happening at work, I just can't afford it.

It just takes so much energy to stay "on top of" trying to take care of myself that whenever I hit a snag, I feel like a useless baby. You know when you see a baby get so frustrated over something seemingly tiny? I feel like that. I drop a paper clip, and it's like, WHY DOES LIFE HATE ME SO MUCH.

Especially lately, with Christmas less than a month away, I have a lot more outgoing money and I am poor to the max. My credit card is maxed out. Living pay-check to pay-check right now is not pretty. There's a lot more of that transferring-over-4$-to-my-credit-card-because-it's-better-than-nothing kind of thing going on.

I just feel useless.

When I interact with other humans I know, I just wanna lay around and have people talk to me like a baby. I have no energy. Once home I just want to go to bed. If I were on my own right now I'd just be eating toast three times a day.

In 3 weeks, I'll have paid off my loan. In January I'll begin putting money aside in liquid/accessible form, so I can save up for a couch and major appliances. I should need at least 5,000$. So I'll have a small down-payment, and money for costs. Ideally I'll be able to line everything up for this spring/summer. If I put away 200$ a pay-check, I'd have 2,200$ for May 2016. 

Ideally I'd be able to add whatever tax return I get to that. What does that give me? 3 grand? Still not enough. I guess I can get a place and wait to get a couch. Christ.

So, that's "the plan" for now. It's a plan. I just wish I had been better with money sooner, instead of pissing my 20's away wishing I was dead. Didn't really set myself up for an established 30-something-life.

I'm trying to walk up a hill, and seeing people whiz by me, and I'm pissed about it right now. Maybe not so much pissed, but exhausted. I'm exhausted by my consistently up-hill struggle.

Good days and bad days. Tired days. Lots of tired these days.

Movement over time.

Image by cwote.

So yesterday I had a session with Ranjana. It had been a few weeks since we'd seen one another, and the conversation flowed well, I've been in a good space lately, and she said it showed. We talked about what may have contributed to that better space.

Things are better. They're better then they were last year. And they're worlds better than in my early 20's. That's not nothing.

I know I have a lot of work to do on certain sore points for me, mainly my body and my nomantic/social life, but I feel better about my ability to address those things. That's new for me.

*one hour later*

Unexpected break-time! My friend V showed up down-town and we went for a coffee and a cigarette! Fun times!

I'm all cigarette-and-coffee-high! Yahoooooooooooooooooooooo!

It's a nice day today, so it was nice to get some sun and some not-fresh air.

He and I have been talking a lot about salary these days. Basically, with the election of the new Liberal government here in Canada, there will be tax breaks for the middle class, but the middle class starts at the $44,000 salary point. I'd say the majority of my friends make under that. We're all struggling to make ends meet. It's not great. He's in a position to re-negotiate his salary, and he's not looking forward to it. Instead, he might leave for Toronto, where salaries are better, and where his girlfriend already has a high-paying job.

This is the second friend this week who is considering leaving the province, E is thinking of going to Halifax to live by the coast, and get away from the city. And that's on top of J who is thinking of Toronto because she and her partner have better job opportunities there (as two anglophones in the music industry).  And of course, my buddy C already left for Victoria, and she's bought a house there, so she's rooting.

I'm not excited about my job prospects, or my finances. I'm not looking to have a ridiculous salary. I understand I chose something related to the arts and that certain types of creativity are not valued. I'm also not that kind of talented that blows peoples minds. I'm also not "good at business,"or monetizing myself or my work.

Source.

I would, however, like to live above the poverty line. I don't think that's a ridiculous desire for someone who is hard-working and competent. I would like to be able to live off of a full-time job. At this point in time I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and saving is excruciating. I could absolutely live on an extremely tight budget and save more, but I want to be able to live my life.

Now that I'm trying to take better care of myself, that incurs additional costs. Therapy, even if it's sliding-scale, costs money. A vitamin regimen costs money. Healthier food costs both time and money in meal-prep and ingredients. Skincare. Aesthetics. Clothing for work. Books (much to do with mental health and self-care). Money.

If socializing is a large part of combating depressive tendencies - generally that also incurs costs. Granted, most of my friends are as broke-ass as me, so we're pretty frigan good, but going out and engaging the world often costs money.

Maybe seeing Star Wars: The Force Awakens will help my mood. And getting advanced tickets in VIP seating at the 18+ theater costs many peanuts. LET ME LIVE.

This has been a bit of a weird post. All of this beginning with my writing about Ranjana's remarking a difference in my body language and attitude.

I hope it all isn't temporary. A weird hole in the clouds. I hope to continue moving forward with my recovery and self-care.

It's just weird how "dealing with" my mental health situation also goes along with "dealing with" other aspects of my life. Nothing goes on hold. I still worry about finances and job security when I'm depressed, it's just diluted. I'm feeling better these days, so I'm thinking of it more actively, this financial situation I'm in. I just see things differently when my brain is unclogged and my vision isn't blurry. It's like removing a pair of dark shades.

So yah, these problems were there before, these money problems, they were just further down my list of priorities, under not killing myself and getting through the day.

I see everything with a greater sense of clarity, yes, but I'm also less irritated. I have more energy. Not in a let's skip to the bakery kind of way. More in a, wow, I can listen to you talk and not want to kill myself, kind of way. That's major. Since I have to interact with humans to live my life.

So yes, maybe I am doing better. I hope, deeply, and with a morose gripping in my chest, that that continues to be the case. I could stand to have good days like this. It's so very nice. And yes, maybe part of me is mournful that these days have been so rare, and I'm envious, and in awe, that there are those who lives lifetimes of good days, but that part of me is microscopic. Overall, what I feel is gratitude for the lighter feeling, and elation that the darker parts of my life are not as permanent as they often feel.

To good days. 

On having my mother.

I was just reading an article on the amount of 20-30 something's moving back into their family home.

In an era of sky-high tuition and soaring housing costs, they argue the group known as Generation Screwed can help unscrew themselves by moving home to pay off debt.

I pay rent, but significantly less than I would on my own. Instead, I'm able to put large chunks of cash on paying off my debt. I'm 2,000$ away from that goal. Then, I'll be saving up, and be in a position to have a down-payment I could never have saved up while paying 800$+ on rent and living costs.

I'm grateful to my mom for not kicking me out when things were really rough for me. I'm also lucky that she and I get along well enough for this to be possible for me. Sure, sometimes she watches Ancient Alien Secrets Revealed and it drives me nuts, but other times she bring me her iPad so I can see a video of a baby goat playing with a puppy.

It can't be easy being the parent of someone who is suffering from unipolar depression. It's taken over a decade for me to get a handle on myself, and there were periods of my life where I was so despondent and miserable. I can't really imagine what that's like for her.

I've asked my mother about her mother, my Nana, and she's often expressed that she didn't feel especially loved or wanted by her mother. She kind of felt like her mother didn't want to be a mother. I've never felt that with my mom. First, she tried for four years to get pregnant with me. But mainly she was always present and loving and kind. I always felt loved by her.

We've had some tough moments. I remember overhearing her one night when I was in the depths of things, and I had just gained a lot of weight, she was expressing not being able to recognize me, and used the term "disgusted" in my weight gain. It hurt me tremendously. She was drunk, and talking to her best friend.

Maybe that added to the pile of shame I was already feeling.

Another time, while I was unemployed I decided to get my hair done. It ended up being lavender, and a little rock and roll. She freaked out. To her, it was an expression of "not giving a shit" and making it harder on myself to get a job. She has the same reaction when I get tattoos. The hair though, on top of being unemployed, burst a dam, and she screamed at me and cried. I ended up staying with a friend for a few days.

But, those examples are the exception.

I have much more in me about her rubbing my back while I was having a panic attack at 5 in the morning before a radio show interview. Or her presence throughout my childhood, at hot-dog days and bake sales.

I remember her tucking me in, and cuddling with me.

I remember my throw-up bucket when I was sick. lol.

I keep telling her not to do my laundry, but she keeps doing it.

Maybe the opposite of depression is a mother's love. A mother who loves being a mother. A mother cradling you in a warm, loving hug and rocking you back and forth. Real comfort.

You were wanted, and you're here, and they celebrate you.

I sometimes wish I had more siblings, so she could have other children to be proud of, and to gain from. She got kind of a dud with me.

I often feel a lot of guilt for being such a burden on her all these years. It's hard not to carry that with me. I'm going to try and look forward, and hope that the worst is behind me.

If all of this worked my empathy muscles, and my ability to relate and appreciate, maybe it'll make me a better daughter, as well as a better person to be around.

I'll never know what it is to feel that. I've only ever been on the receiving end of it. I've never wanted children, and though I can feel protective and maternal towards my nephews, or towards a baby, I do not have any desire to have one of my own.

When I see my friends going through it, I see the distinction between those having children and those who want them so badly, and get them. My friend C tried for years, and now that she has a newborn, I couldn't be happier for her. And no doubt, she'll live in the vein of motherhood lived in my by mother. Some people fit their vocations and passions so well, and I think for my mother that was motherhood.

She is not perfect. She is not a disciplinarian. There were times as a teenager when that's what I needed. But since my father died when I was 13, both she and I were left on our own. She married my father at 21. That's unimaginable to me. She was completely dependent on him. Also unimaginable to me.

As the fog of my depression lifts, I hope to continue to improve my relationship with her. I hope to remain grateful for her. I plan on spending as much time with her as I can. So much of my history is lost to me. There are so few memories. I want to enjoy my mother. I want to remember her, because she'll eventually leave me.

I'm grateful for her. And I can't even think about where I'd be without her.

I might not always be happy I was born, but I'm always happy she's my mother.

How I imagine being robbed.

Criminal: Your money or your life! Me: You can have my life [criminal now works at a dead-end job & feels a general sense of melancholy]
— Nice Hippo (@NicestHippo) April 13, 2015

Of course, my version of this goes:

Criminal walks up behind me at ATM. 
Criminal: Move over! I'm robbing you!
Me: Fine.
Criminal: *boop* *boop* *beep*
I wait patiently . . . .
Criminal: Jesus you have a lot of debt.
Me: Exactly, fuck right off.
Criminal leaves.