Ramblings from an Eccentric Mind

I'm a 29 year-old female suffering from a number of interesting conditions that have either baffled the doctors or resulted in my removal from the general "normal" society. Please be warned that this tumblr will be chocked full of triggers and whatnots...

[odieodessa]

A Checklist of the Tenants in Our Head.

Well, I guess at some point this should make it out - just so there’s someway for others who have to deal with me to figure out who’s out and who’s in the driver’s seat. 

See, what makes it harder is that we had a discussion and all agreed that the best way to stay out of trouble is to all only respond to either : 

1. Raven 2. Vivienne  3. Vi 

No one (other than Raven of course) gets to respond to their own names. It just saves us a bunch of trouble (which frankly, I find really unfair. I mean, Lilith is an awesome name isn’t it? Yes, this is Lilith writing.) 

So let’s make a tenancy list, shall we? I mean, what better way to keep things in check than a checklist, right? Pretty sure Jermaine would agree.  

Okay, so this is how it’s gonna go with this list - 

<NAME> <Visual Identifiers> <Behavioural Identifiers> 

So let’s start. 

Raven (Core / Primary)  - Doesn’t give a flying fuck what she looks like (most of the time), doesn’t really give a flying fuck what people think of her wardrobe (which is mainly made up of all the wardrobes of all the others. That’s what happens when a buncha people share a meatshell. Something’s gotta give.)  - Pretty damn pushy, pretty damn confident (most of the time). Is the one that gets to see the doctors because we all hate the doctors. 

Jermaine (Co-pilot/ Administrator)  - Has a silly wardrobe made up of corporate wear type things (I mean, seriously, what’s up with that?) - Is the organiser. She keeps everything in check. She also has access to every. single. memory. (Which also makes her the god damn judge. )

Lilith (The one writing this)  - I would like very much to have my wardrobe back, thank you very much, but no, Raven went and left all that in Brisbane. But I forgive her partially - at least there’s more sharps to play with and amuse myself with now. I like black. Black everything. Black COMBAT everything. Boots, vests, combat pants... Oh and where the fuck is my machete?  - No nonsense. Don’t try to fuck with me. Because I will fuck you up. I like my Vogues - those slim cigarettes - and I like my booze. And just a reminder - DO. NOT. FUCK. WITH. ME. 

Merreith (One half of the terrible twins. Yes, even I find them terrible.)  - One of the 2 guys in this crazy nest. Black everything, doesn’t give a shit if he’s wearing his sister’s gear. If he feels like it, he wears it. Except, well, OF COURSE RAVEN LEFT ALL OUR CLOTHES BACK IN BRISBANE. I MEAN, WHY NOT RIGHT?  - Chain smoker. Smokes anything. Drinks everything. Is the one most likely responsible for beating people up. Raven & Jermaine refuses to let him drive because of that. But he sneaks out sometimes.  Merrideith (The other half of the terrible twins)  - Gothic, corsets, dark everything...and a little bit of a camera whore. She’s the one that’s in most of the pictures of this meatshell. Bloody obvious one visually, this one. Has a thing for heels. Like, REALLY high heels. Frankly, her footwear choices are pretty stupid.  - Nails are weapons. So’s every bit of her jewelry (of which she wears a fair amount). Raven let’s her co-pilot sometimes, although she’s a bitch. If someone’s face is slashed up or someone got their hair yanked - basically any victim of a cat fight - it’s her. 

Kaiser - The other dude. Stinky hipster guy. How come HE gets to keep his wardrobe?  - Pretentious, coffee addict...responsible for the glasses that hurts the meatshell’s ears. I mean, fine, this pair of eyes is a bit wonky. But do we REALLY need those glasses? 

Odessa  - Seldom appears. Long black dresses, goes around looking like some sad widow of Dracula. Red & black. That’s her thing. - Has a taste for blood. As in, literally. Also has an eating disorder. She’s the one started this blog - notice the name? Also known as Odie. 

Wendy  - THE FRIGGIN KID.  - Draws on walls. And floors. And cries a whole lot. And wouldn’t leave the teddy alone. We’re all pretty glad she’s afraid of a particular someone we all like at the moment, ‘coz that means she ain’t coming out. 

Vivienne  - The “original” one. The weakest link.  - Always actively trying to remove this meatshell from existence by various biologically accurate methods. Jermaine says she’s no longer a concern though. She’s apparently gone. When? God knows. And who cares.  

Nina  - The hippie.  - Artist, crafter, maker. I’m not really against her - she’s pretty okay actually. Keeps to herself a lot. 

Pearl  - Remember Stepford Wives? That’s her. Got the name to match too. Prolly the meatshell’s mum’s favourite. - Again. Stepford Wives. Pinup style. That’s pretty much her. Seldom comes out, unless, well, feeding people... 

Qiara  - Wardrobe? Whatever she can mess up. Personally - What’s with that name? Why can’t she spell it properly like how it’s pronounced? Kiara - much easier, ain’t it?  - Artist, Sculptor, Carpenter. Responsible for unregulated art supplies purchases. 

I think that’s all the ones of note. There’s a bunch hanging out, not doing much except chilling... so that’s gonna have to wait for Jermaine to update on. 

[odieodessa]

Dysthymia

So yes, I’ve caved and finally gone to see the docs once again. And, well, as much as I hate meds, I’m hoping that this is going to help this time. Because, well, frankly, I’ve hit the point where it’s actually harder to stay present/ comfortable/ safe/ real/ functional.

Sure, I’m still appearing pretty damn fully functional to most people (especially the people I need to work with) but I feel my abilities diminishing. I know what I can achieve, but I’m not actually functioning at my peak anymore. And it’s been awhile since I have been at my peak. Seeing how most others have never seen me at my peak performance (with the exception of a particular person who has lived with me) - it’s pretty easy to pass as “fully” functional.

A new thing I’ve wound up learning about though, is Dysthymia. Because that’s apparently one of my underlying conditions. What Dysthymia is - in summary and putting a positive spin to it (according to a friend) - is the excuse to stay as an Emo Goth Chick forever. Basically, it’s not a state of depression that you can get out of. Sure, you might be slightly more functional then someone who is in a major depressive episode, but, they might, at some point, “recover” from it. For us, there is - apparently - no real recovery, and the best thing to do is to make attempts at keeping major depressive episodes at bay.

I’m not sure if this is going to change anything - I mean, it’s been present since forever, and it’s not going away. With the exception of now starting on Vortioxetine, everything’s going to stay the same, right? Maybe the drug will help, maybe it won’t. Maybe it’lll make things worse, maybe it won’t.

The annoying bit though - seems like the only way the P.Doc could figure out how to help with the anxiety is Xanax. I’m frankly not very keen on that. So it’ll probably be a case of not touching the meds and just doing what I’ve been doing thus far to get myself out the door on time.

[odieodessa]

When the Past catches up...

..It’s not necessarily a bad thing.

I used to camp on IRC back in the days when it was the “IT Thing” to use, and tended to loiter in a few specific channels. And those channels were...well, pretty much the only “social life” I had.

To be fair, I was a student then. One who had managed to find enough things to be involved in so that I was barely home. I hated being home. I guess not much has changed really. So, anytime I was home and allowed near the computer, I’d be on IRC. Considering I had to share the computer with everyone else...there was really very little time I had with it. But I’d always be on a computer, and there were a few particular channels that made me feel at home...

In recent days, I’ve taken to hanging out with a certain group of people - people who are just a little obsessed with writing & the related instruments. And by chance, some of these people happen to be from the same channels I loitered in a decade or so ago...

...Does this mean I might have finally found “me people” here? It’s hard to say, but ... when the past catches up, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

[odieodessa]

It’s been a bad couple of weeks. I’ve been surviving on pain killers. I’ve had 2 episodes. And the chest infection pains are back with a vengeance.

Days like this, I wish I could just die. Just collapse...fall asleep and never wake up.

Today’s probably one of the worse days so far. I need to ration my painkillers coz I’m running out. My mind’s in 20 different places. I’m tried and irritable.

Help me, someone. 

[neuroticdream]

Breathe me on We Heart It.

[dpressed--teen-deactivated20220]

[odieodessa]

Right now, I’m feeling so raw... and having a foreboding of possibly having to be on suicide watch... but at that same time...that would only be true if I was back were I felt like I belonged. Here, no one knows, no one care enough to ask. I’m on my own. I’m trying to keep my senses & sanity, but it’s getting really hard. I have a blunt hobby knife in one hand, and scratches all up and down the other arm. Right now, I still have enough presence of mind to minimise the harm done, but I can’t guarantee how long I’ll keep this presence.

I’m calling out for help in my own silent ways, but, of course, no one notices. I’, trying to keep my tears inside.

I falling apart. Someone, help me.

[powwell]

Crow up.

[odieodessa]

I’m looking forward to the day when I can be open about my mental health status and reconcile the different facets of my life.

[odieodessa]

R U OK?

It’s suicide prevention day today. It’s also “R U OK?” day.

But I’m not okay.

I haven’t been in a long while.

I wake up every morning, wondering if maybe today might be the last day. If maybe the state of my desk was the reflection of a mind unraveled. That maybe today, my breathe would be taken away one last time, as my ribs tighten to restrict my lungs, forcing all the air out.

Or maybe that dragon that lives outside my window will finally claim me, or take me away. His intentions are unclear ; I’ve never tried to find out what he wants. Maybe he’s just there to guard me, to keep the faceless ones away.  I don’t really know.

I’ve woken up in a puddle of tears for the last week, unable to pinpoint the reasons why. I dreamt that the glass of the windows shattered and pinned me to the ground; I dreamt that I was falling out of a tower ... and never hitting the ground. I dreamt of bloodshed and tears, all my own. 

But no one cares about who I am here. All they care about is what I can do. I’m breaking but there’s no one to see it. Or hear it. 

I grew up learning that I should never talk about what ails me, because it’s not important. That going to see a doctor of any sort was a waste of money. My horrible experiences with medical professionals, as a patient, or as a fellow practitioner, does nothing to boost my opinion of them either. Well, at least not here.

I need help - in the form of someone who would just sit with me and let me cry, just there to comfort me with a gentle touch - but I have none of that.

I’m breaking, falling. I’m crying but no one can here me cry.

I’m not okay. But are you?

[odieodessa]

Why I’m likely never going to be in a long-term relationship

Not that I don’t want to, but it’s just unlikely.

So this is a thing that came up in conversation recently. Just a bunch of people, mostly single, joking around. And someone mentioned potentially dating within the group. 

See, it’s not like I’m not “on the market” for a partner. But I’m not actively looking either. Mainly because, and I said as much...

“All of you pass, only I fail...”

These days, I feel like there needs to be a list of disclaimers and terms & conditions attached to my forehead. And likely, if anyone ever gets interested, I would probably sit them down and have a good long discussion with them regarding what they are signing up for if they choose to date me. I feel like it’s only fair to provide a warning label - “Date at your own risk. Multiple mental health & chronic pain issues.”

Add on the fact that I really, do not wish...can’t see myself...having any spawns. No kids for me, no thanks. They don’t need my genes. I’m helping evolution out here. What all of these means is - I’ve basically “failed” all that is expected of me as an Asian Female. I’m suppose to want to marry and settle down, suppose to want kids. I’m suppose to then be a good mother and nurture said spawn to be super-achievers. 

But - 1. I’m not a cis-gendered female. In fact, don’t ask me about my gender. I’m just as confused as you are, if not more. And sexually? All over the god-damned place thank you very much. 2. I don’t mind being in a committed relationship, but due to the list of mental & physical health issues I possess, it seems an unlikely occurrence. And in the off chance it occurs, it may not be with a guy. So there.  3. I really, do not. want. kids. Like, really really. I’m afraid of tiny humans, so guys, please, don’t throw your spawn at me either. At least, not till they turn 5 or 6. When their face is not at my crotch level.

So there. That makes me a “fail” in the current local context. Which means if I stay here, I’m just going to become an old, lonely spinster.

But seriously,

WHATEVS

[odieodessa]

&...

I’m pretty sure that most of you would have heard of Project Semicolon by now. Some of you may even have hopped on the train and gotten yourself a semicolon tattoo to remind yourself that your story isn’t over yet. 

I didn’t get a semicolon tattoo, no. But I did something that meant the same thing tattooed on my wrists. “ & ... “

And thus. And so. And then. Et Cetera... Sure, it’s in white ink, ans barely visible to others unless I point it out to them, but it’s not for anyone else; It’s for me. 

I picked up the blades again today. It’s been a hard few months, and feeling like I was dying again in my sleep last night didn’t help things. I was choking; I couldn’t breathe; and there was no one I could reach out to, as I lay in my bed, tears in my eyes, clutching my phone to my chest. No one. I couldn’t call out for help because I had no breath - not that it would make a difference. I couldn’t call my house phone and alert my parents because they wouldn’t understand - the whole problem with parents is too big a story to explain, so just understand this - they may call an ambulance, but that’s about all the “nice” things they’d do. I’d have to put up with a tonne of crap from them after. I’d much rather just die, thank you very much. I had instinctively reached for my phone, because I used to have someone that would come to help, to at least soothe me, while I lay gasping. This time though... it’s different. I had my phone, but I had no lifeline.

I woke up this morning in a truckload of pain. I could barely roll over, let alone sit up, and get out of bed. But I was being summoned. So I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t deal with any of it anymore

I took a penknife blade with me into the shower. I turned the water on, and turned my wrist over... and stopped. Because I had left that reminder to myself. This is not the end. What happens next? You’ve planned so much - are you sure this is the end? 

Obviously, I didn’t go through with the plan. I didn’t want the story to end just yet. I had plans. And all those plans were etched into my skin, in white ink...

& ...

(pic of tattoo was from right after it was done. It can’t actually be caught on camera clearly now. )

[odieodessa]

Lost Voices

So my brain’s found a new (okay, not that new) thing to freak out about - I’ve forgotten how my friends sound like.

I know this sounds weird, but, I’ve moved home from Brisbane for a year and a half, and haven’t seen any of them, or heard them, since I left. Okay, rewind, I’ve “heard” and “seen” some, via hangouts, but, it’s been awhile too.

See, the thing is, I get these crazy migraines. And one of the things that happens when they come is that I loose my sight. So, if I couldn’t remember how they sounded like, I’d be totally lost, and I’d never find them. And, my brain being what it is, loves to screw around with me, and misplace important information like that. 

So I’ve started to build a sound bank, requesting short voice clips from my friends, so that, no matter what, I always have a way to remember their voice.

It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s something.

[odieodessa]

Driving...

So I've been told that I'm too old to not have a driver's license again. And my usual response of "but driving is expensive" is no longer a sufficient excuse. But how does one tell them that, "look, you've been ignoring my mental health issues forever. But now it's tim to acknowledge them, and realise that their existence has rendered me incapable of manning a motorized vehicle. I can't focus on the roads if there's a cat on my dashboard, or a bird on the stirring wheel. And on bad days when the rest of the crew shows up? I won't be able to focus on anything without freaking out at all!"

[anxietydisorderconfessions]

4520) I have lots of friends. I am very social. I make everyone laugh and feel better. And every morning when I wake up, I ask why. Why couldn't yesterday have been my last? I have no more to offer...

[swiftiesparkleshine]

Be there for your loved ones who are battling Lyme Disease or any chronic illness!

[odieodessa]

Who cares for the carer?

When dad got diagnosed with cancer, mum broke down. I was there. I didn’t cry, I didn’t really do anything. My immediate response was to ask for details - like I had been trained to do. She screamed and yelled, called me cold-hearted. Because I didn’t fall apart. But if I had fallen apart - who could she lean on? Fair, that wasn’t my thoughts at the time, but an afterthought. So I took it. I accepted that I was cold-hearted - I was inhumane. Because I didn’t know what sort of emotions I should have, or should display.

I can truthfully say that, in most unforeseen situations - expecially when bodily fluids and functions are involved - I seem to be the only one who can keep her head on and do what needs to be done. I don’t like surprises - and so have spent the bulk of my free time learning - so that I can prepare for any sort of surprise - nasty or not - that gets thrown my way. So, in a way, the role of the supporter, the carer, has fallen on to me. Because I can keep my head on. 

Truth is, outside of my intellect, I’m a mess. I can’t even say my intellect and my mind - because my mind’s a fucked up place too. But who cares for the carer? Who supports the supporter? Who’s there when I’m falling to bits?

Truthfully? No one.

Sure, I used to be surrounded by people who cared enough to help. But the truth is, now, there’s no one.

When she’s hurting, I get called upon to relieve her pain. When things need to be done, I’m doing it. Sure, I may not seem to be doing much to them - but, considering even getting out of bed hurts - physically, mentally, emotionally - I really can’t see how I can do anymore for them while still being able to care for myself. In fact, I don’t think I’ve cared for myself much since I’ve come back. Everything about here is jarring - I don’t have a safe space to retire to; I don’t have people I can depend on; I don’t even have someone I could talk to. All I’ve managed is to tattoo a reminder on my wrists that it’s not over, and there is more to look forward to.

But on dark days, when my spine is twisted, and my ribs are hurting; when each breathe feels like the burn from a thousand torches; when the world is a blur, and time is lost... it’s a reminder that it’s not over and the worse is yet to come.

And there’s no one I can turn to.

So who cares for the cold-hearted, the unfeeling and unmovable? Who cares for the column, the seemingly indestructible pillar?

Who cares when the cracks and the fractures take their toll?

No one.