On validation

Musings, Self-Esteem
In my last post, I wrote about how angry I used to get when my father would push my buttons, and how now I need more than anything for you to admit that I'm right, or have a very good reason why you won't. Until yesterday, I didn't understand the link between those two things; I only knew that it was there. But now I know what it was I was being denied, and what it is that I crave now. Validation. Yesterday, while roaming the internet, I came across this article on the Friends for Mental Health website. Sheryl Bruce provides an overview of a book written by Valerie Porr, and describes the ways in which children's feelings are invalidated: For example it could be that the behaviour of…
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Isaac Asinov

Musings, Self-Esteem
If, like me, you grew up in a certain time, surrounded by a certain kind of people, you knew who the ABC's of science fiction were. You knew that B stood for Ray Bradbury. You knew that C was for Arthur C. Clarke. And by God, you knew that A was for Asimov. Isaac Asimov. These weren't the only writers we idolized in our teens; Stephen R. Donaldson's Thomas Covenant books, for example, were big among my friends. We had Frank Herbert. We had R.A. Lafferty. These people opened our eyes to the untold riches of words and worlds, and we wanted to be writers, like them. But Mr. Isaac Asimov held a special place in my heart, because every month a magazine came out that bore his name, and contained…
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The issues

Musings
I'm afraid all the time. Afraid of offending somebody. Afraid of being politically incorrect. Afraid of expressing my opinion, or worse, having no opinion whatsoever to express. I know there's a lot going on in the world. I know that the man who shot Colten Boushie has been acquitted. I know that the man who shot Trayvon Martin was acquitted. I know that women all over Canada and the United States are gathering their courage to tell the world about the sexual abuse they have suffered at the hands of powerful men. These things hurt. These things are tearing our society to shreds. And I don't know what to do about them. I don't know what to say about them. But I feel like I should know, and I should…
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The spiral, hard and fast

Musings
If you have Borderline Personality Disorder, you already know how this works. If you don't, buckle in now, because I'm going to take you through the sudden hard spiral I took earlier this week. How I got in It started at a bus stop. I was at the far end of town, a foreign country as far as I'm concerned, and the bus service there is terrible. On the way there, I got to talk to my favourite bus driver, catch up on the news, trade jokes, that sort of thing. I asked him what stop I needed to get off at for where I was going, and he told me. To get home, I stood at the stop across the street from where I had gotten off. I waited…
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Task snooze override

Action
People think I'm an organized person. I'm not really sure how I give them this impression, unless it's by constantly taking notes, setting reminders, marking things on my calendar. Why they don't know is that I don't always re-read my notes; I don't always check my calendar; and worst of all, when a task reminder comes up, I hit the snooze option. I've known for years that it's in my best interests to cut up carrots and celery on a Sunday so that they'll be ready to grab for lunches each workday morning. But I so often act against my best interests. I hit the snooze option: I really don't feel like cutting up vegetables, I'd rather be reading, I'd rather be sleeping, I can just do it in the…
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Jumbled

Action
I'm having trouble organizing my thoughts lately. So many things I'm thinking about, ideas to test, words to be spoken, but they seem to swirling around in my brain, with no one thought rising to the top long enough for me to capture it. This worries me a little. I've had five good days in a row, after weeks of feeling like I was spiralling downwards. I've been hyper; I've been interrupting myself in the middle of sentences to get out other thoughts; I've been unable to hold conversations while doing menial tasks. It feels like a crash is coming. Hyperactivity leads me to hysteria; hysteria leads me to unstoppable tears. Unstoppable tears lead me to self-harm, anything to make the feeling stop. I don't want to crash again. I…
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The crack in the ice

Action, Musings
A few days ago, in a strange fit that was part sarcasm and part desperation, I asked JDS to tell me fourteen reasons why life was worth living. He told me that he would give me one reason per day for the next fourteen days. Reason One was a member of his family. Fair enough, I thought, and then felt guilty that in all of my casting about, family members didn’t present themselves to me as obvious reasons for living. That’s my illness though, and I need to not feel guilty about it. On my good days, my family members are the first things that I feel grateful for. But this wasn’t one of my good days. Reason Two was nowhere near as obvious as Reason One. Reason Two, for…
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Domino

Musings
Six years ago today, my best friend was so sick that he gave me a look, a very human look, that said, "I've had enough of this." And because I loved my friend very much, I brought him to the veterinarian who ended his pain, not quickly enough. Domino lived with me for seventeen and a half years, and I always believed that he had saved my life. The day I brought him home, I was on a day pass from the hospital, where I'd spent a few weeks after a second botched suicide attempt. I had no idea how to move forward, no idea how to start my life over again. But if I could learn how to take care of a cat, maybe I could learn how to…
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Can’t / Won’t

Action
Today I had to fight very hard to get past Can’t. My primary goal this morning was to spend some time with my mother in her sewing room. Her primary goal was to teach me a clever new way to make a pillowcase. In the past, I have been quick to pick up new sewing techniques and ideas. I have a great history of transferring learning, of picking up an idea from one project and adapting it to fit another. Lately, say the last three or four years, during this most recent bout of depression, learning has been very difficult for me. Because I am so used to being able to learn, this sudden inability to learn easily feels like an unforgivable sin that I am committing against myself. This…
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Ammunition

Action
My aforementioned friend, JDS, has this theory that women carry around a purse full of ammunition that they can pull out and use at any time, usually without warning. Not literal ammunition, of course; emotional ammunition. The things people have done or not done to them, said or forgotten to say to them. Past slights or hurts, major and minor: they all go into the ammunition purse. And you never know when you're going to walk into an ambush, and have all that ammo rain down on your head. I didn't think I was that kind of woman, until I brought up an opinion JDS had expressed about eight months ago, and asked him whether he still felt the same way. What he felt was ambushed. He no longer had…
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