July 30, 2014: Poo Pourri

When I was in the hospital I didn’t poop at all.  I had a case of travel bum where no matter how much I ate my bum simply refused to go.  Not my toilet, I don’t like it, NOOOPE. I seem to be making up for lost time now though in case you were concerned and curious.  I bought Poo Pourri on Amazon awhile ago but hadn’t actually tried it yet. If you don’t know what it is, here is their video:

At $10 for a rather small bottle I consider it to be an investment in air quality. It’s a peculiar milky colour and I’m not sure why as essential oils are a clear amber colour which leads me to believe there is something in there that is not so natural. 

Today was the big day, time to use my investment. It smells quite delightful with a light burst of lemon and as you know, I’m a sucker for citrus. I can confirm for you that this product works as advertised and so my only complaint is the price.  I wonder if a home made essential oil spray would actually work. All I would need is an emulsifying agent such as vodka and the scents of my choice.  I think I will try it when my poo pourri is all gone.  Stocking stuffer spoiler alert! 

Day 200 and onward: To crazy and back

Firstly I am sorry to everyone who was worried about me and to everyone who’s days/schedules were altered because of me (and there are a lot of you) 

Tuesday during the day at work and during the evening I was completely fine and my day went well.Tuesday night I went a bit mental to say the least.  I became hysterical and was at a complete loss of control over my thoughts and actions. I began alternating between cutting myself and taking pills. When I wrote my blog (which has since been removed by a third party to avoid any further calls to 911) it was late enough that I assumed no one would see it right away. False assumption clearly. I did have enough time to cut up and down and all over both of my arms, take far more pills than I should have and to knife the shit out of my laptop screen. I don’t know why I did that but it felt right at the time. Just after getting out of the bath (which included a table beside me with more pills) my door was pounding very loudly which was the police. The two guys came in and sat down to chat with me about what I was doing and calmed me down by talking to me about my apartment and decorating. They took my knife away and gathered all my pill bottles and made a list of everything I had taken.  I was told that I was being taken to the hospital by ambulance because of all of the things I had taken. Aside from being upset, I didn’t feel any effects from the pills at all.  In the ambulance I was hooked up to all sorts of machines and put on the stretcher. On the way there I chatted with the paramedic.

Me: How was your day?

Him: Not bad but I’ve got a bit of a headache.

Me:  I’d give you some Tylenol but I took all mine.

Him: *Awkward laughter*

During the triage part of the ER I had to go to the bathroom.  I was escorted there on my stretcher while the two paramedics and two police officers stood outside the bathroom door.  There was a lot of pee pressure.  Apparently I was a flight risk. When I finally got a room at the ER the paramedics left but the police continued to stand guard outside my room until I was all hooked up to new machines. By this time an hour had passed and my feet felt numb and my heart began to beat erratically.  I was hooked up to an EKG machine and an IV drip of fluid to flush my system.  I don’t think I ever actually considered what taking too many pills does to your body, I didn’t think it would feel like that. My heart was beating an extra 50 beats/minute so I had to remain in the ER for about 12 hours until I was stable enough to be sent to the crazy people side of the hospital.  I didn’t sleep at all, how can you really with all that noise and when your heart feels like it will explode. 1pmish I was taken to the emergency psychiatric treatment part of the hospital.  I don’t remember going from one place to the other but obviously I did. My room was from the 50’s with scratched up plexi glass windows to the hallway, a solid bathtub like bed frame and a one piece stainless steel toilet and sink combo.  It looked much like the shoe from OITNB. I had some visitors and I remember hearing lots of angry yelling people in nearby rooms but I was so tired that I don’t really remember much. 

I was transferred up to the new psychiatric hospital that I toured a few months ago and as luck would have it out of all the rooms in the whole hospital, the one that I was given was the one that I had toured through. I was given my key pass card and the once over.  Dinner was promptly at 5pm which was just as I arrived.  Dinner there is served in a small kitchen were all the patients sit together for their meals. I hadn’t brushed my hair or teeth in a long time and was wearing a hospital gown. If I wasn’t so exhausted I would probably have been mortified to see that all of the other patients were wearing normal people clothes. 

The ward was mostly older people with only two or three about my own age.  My favourite patient was a man who sounded like a cross between Winnie the Pooh and the old pedophile from the Family Guy. He wheeled around the ward yelling YOUHOO!!! YOUHOOO??!!! I went to bed promptly at 9pm and slept with my door open to minimize the noise when the nurses came in every 15 to 30 min. to do their rounds. Around 3am I heard YOUHOO in the hallway.  He had socks on his ears because the snake told him to do it.  His talking snake is a king cobra in case you were wondering. The next morning when I woke up I had no idea what day it was or what time it was.  No clocks or calendars anywhere. When I went for breakfast the next morning an older lady told me she felt like a bum because I was wearing a dress and had brushed my hair.  She also told me that the tops and bottoms of bananas were poison.  I looked her right in the eyes while I ate the end of my banana.  She didn’t show me any concern. Rude. By that time I had been seen by several nurses, Dr’s, psychiatrists and a social worker. I wish I had just written out my life story and pinned it to my shirt so I didn’t have to repeat it anymore. At dinner the older lady from breakfast came over to sit with me and said, hold on I’ll be right back, I need to go change my shirt. When she returned I could tell she had also brushed her hair. 

Thursday night just after I went to bed there was a man in the hall trying to pull his shorts up over his shoulders because the voices told him to or else all the snakes crawling on the floor would bite him. At that moment I considered shutting my door but I didn’t. Around 3am I was awakened by a man in his boxer shorts walking toward me and mumbling incoherently. Thinking he was confused I told him he was in the wrong room but he just kept on coming. He went into my bathroom so I ran and got a nurse. Two of them came back to escort him out but not before he had taken a nasty shit in my bathroom. I was told to not use my bathroom until it was cleaned and to sleep with my door shut for the rest of the night.  I was scared and slept with my light on too. 

On the continuum of crazy in that place I was on the very bottom rung. It was an interesting experience being locked up with no sharp objects, medication or phone. I asked for my birth control pills but was told it was a catholic hospital so they didn’t think I could have them.  I find it baffling that a publicly funded hospital can base their medical treatment on religious values. 

In the end after many tests and reviews by various professionals multiple times/day it was decided that my behaviour was due to a combination of personal stressors and being on too high of a dossage of my Effexor which in fact caused me further depression and thoughts of suicide.  Depression and suicidal thoughts really are terrible side-effects for an anti-depressant to have. It was suggested that because I couldn’t do groups (due to risk of seeing my own clients) that I do private therapy.  Since I don’t have the $200 an/hour for that the psychiatrist suggested I do the “Mind over mood” workbook and then check in with my health care team’s psychiatrist to review regularly.  

Now I’m at home and feeling relatively well.  Tuesday seems to be a distant memory that I’m not really keen on reliving.  I had someone delete all the voice messages and texts on my phone so I didn’t have to think about them again.  I saw my knife and laptop today and looking at them made me anxious.  I think I’ll have to get rid of the knife and use my laptop only when using the tv as a monitor. Thank you to all for your kind letters, visits, thoughts, child minding, gifts and to the moving fairies who packed and moved most of my things for me while I was locked up in crazyville. 

I have decided that I am no longer feeling obligated to post my blog on a daily basis.  I still enjoy writing it and trying new things however I plan on minimizing the stressors in my life and that will include writing when I choose, not when I feel that I have to. 

Day 199: Online counselling

I am tired of feeling shitty every goddamn day and I’m tired of crying.  I’m tired of feeling badly for myself for realizing too late of all the good things I had before I fucked them up.  I’m tired of knowing that everything that makes me feel so much pain all the time is entirely my own fault. I’m tired of feeling like I can’t fix it.  I’m tired of feeling unloved even though I know it’s what I deserve. It’s pretty fucking awful and I want it all to stop but I can’t seem to make that happen. 

Clearly whatever I’m doing now isn’t working so it’s time to try something else.  I’ve seen psychiatrists, and they are great at giving me pills and jotting notes down on their fucking clipboards while nodding their heads and I’ve seen a counsellor who was great at saying all the things I already knew. All of them told me that I was very self aware and didn’t need to see them anymore.  Maybe I’m seeing the wrong ones because I don’t feel fixed. I still cut myself. I still grab my neck hard and tight until it hurts and I can’t hold on anymore. I still binge and purge and I still think about killing myself.  These are not normal things and I know that.  I don’t want to do these things, I don’t want to think that those are reasonable coping strategies. They are exactly what I need them to be, an outlet for me to feel in control of myself when I feel like everything else is out of my control. Pain and punishment is a way to distract myself from feeling sad all the time. If someone I knew told me they were doing this I would be worried and concerned for them, but I don’t show myself the same regard.  It’s easier to help other people than it is to help yourself. 

I was supposed to move out of my apartment last weekend but I didn’t.  Do you know why? Because I have packed literally nothing and didn’t bother to even call and book the truck. I have piles of clean and dirty laundry on my floor, no clean towels and not even toilet paper. The food in my fridge has been in the same containers and pots for at least a month. I’m scared to open them. I am a fucking mess. I have however been taking excellent care of my ever loving and faithful companion: my cat Super Nibs. Handsome bastard. It is very clear to me that my current strategies or lack thereof are not helpful to me in any way whatsoever. So in recognition that what I am doing has been unsuccessful, I chose to do some counselling tonight. I have multiple ways of accessing my service provider and online happened to be one of them. I shop online, connect online, bank online so I might as well get some counselling there too. 

One of the benefits was that I could sit on my couch and not have to see anyone.  I got nervous at first but got over that pretty quickly and cry typed the whole time. I’m not convinced I feel any better though because I hadn’t cried all day until I started the session.  The end result was more or less being told that I should really be setting up ongoing sessions with the same counsellor instead of the one off that I tried to do tonight.  As much as it hasn’t worked before, I’m all for feeling better so I have agreed.  Everyone needs someone to dump their shit on. 

My supervisor sent this today saying it reminded her of all the little things that we in social services do that has an impact on others and the world.  I thought it was nice and it made me smile. 

Oooh, I’ve just been asked by friends to catsit for them… possibly, maybe.  They have a handful of hairless cats that make me giggle.

It is slightly possible that maybe I do feel a teensy bit better after all. Also I would like to add that for anyone who read yesterday’s blog and thought, wow, booze and Taco Bell sound like a super good combination: You would be wrong.  

Day 198: Online gambling

About once a year I go to a casino and make an evening of it with sightseeing, a nice dinner and some gambling.  I can’t remember the last time I’ve been and I was getting a hankering for it so I thought I’d try the online version.  Because I’d never tried it before I did the trial version which means no money transactions. I’m a classic slot machine kind of girl, none of those digital bullshit machines.  I want to see those goddamn cherries and bar symbols spinning by. So while I played the “classic” version online, they are obviously digital.  I still enjoyed it, but there is something to be said for the people watching in casinos where old people turn into evil lurkers ready to steal your seat the moment you get up.  Sometimes it’s fun to stand up and then just stretch a little bit to watch them awkwardly linger and keep going when you sit back down. I’ve never won a lot at casinos but I have also never lost anything.

I’ve been feeling much better since the termination of my online dating profiles. My experience can be summed up in this picture (I’m the one on the left)


I heard this song on the radio today.  Let’s all remember how awesome it is.

For the rest of my day I plan to get afternoon drunk, eat reheated TacoBell (I’m not too good for soggy warm iceberg lettuce) and watch Sponge Bob Square Pants.

As an added bonus you also receive Volbeat’s remake of the Kitty Wells classic:

Day 197: go to a comicon

My first comicon/indie gamingcon was a relatively small scale three day one that is open until 4am, Wowza. I knew it would be a T & A fest so I wore my shortest dress which is a butterfly flutter away from showing my ass creases. I didn’t feel at all uncomfortable in it. It was a feast for the eyes with cosplay everywhere and some amazing artists. It could have been made better with booze though, although that can probably be said for life as a whole.

This guy’s “costume” was him in his underwear. My phone won’t let me upload the pic though so you’ll just have to trust me.


I found this furry thing laying in a hallway. I think it’s tired.



There are more pictures but my phone has a mind of it’s own and doesn’t feel like working with me today. I still love you dinosaur age iPhone.

Day 196: don’t be shellfish

That is supposed to be selfish, it was a typo but I liked it so I left it.
Yesterday was another bad day for me. I slept from 9:30am until about 4:30pm. When I’m feeling shitty I will often choose sleeping over curling up in a ball and crying because it makes the time go by and I don’t have to think about things. As usual I recognize that hibernation is an ineffective coping mechanism but I prefer it to the crying because there’s a least a chance I might have some nice dreams.

I had planned a birthday get together last night with some friends and was going to back out. When I’m in shut down mode I find it difficult to think about anyone except myself and simply surviving. At 4:30 though I somehow was able to acknowledge the disappointment and poor etiquette I would be displaying by not showing up. So I showered and got my ass on a bus to make it and put on a good show for everyone.

I deleted my two online dating profiles yesterday. Got 99 problems but online dating is not one of those aforementioned problems.

Day 195: learn to drive standard

Yesterday’s post, a day behind yet again. Yesterday was pure shit and that is all I want to say about it.

I did learn how to drive standard though so there’s that. I managed to not stall at all and the only issue was when I went around a corner and tried to go to first but went to third instead. I took it too fast and yelled fuck me! Fuck me! It will take a special kind of instructor to handle my profanities.