Saturday, February 26, 2011
later that day..
There is nothing quite like the feeling I get when I awake from my sleep several times a night to him putting his hand on me somewhere. Just resting it there. Whether is be on my leg or my arm, to touch my hair or sometimes hold my hand... While I'm sleeping. Such a special feeling. I can't get enough of those moments. And waking up in the morning to him doing this or sometimes just putting his arm over me.. It's priceless. The most amazing sleep and the most amazing start to the day.
Friday, February 25, 2011
title
Well yesterday was an interesting day. I'm an idiot. Dead set idiot. For some reason.. I'm not quite sure why.. I went through The Misters phone. Well more like.. His facebook on his phone. It started cuz I sent him an inbox msg on there and I wanted to know if he was ignoring it or if he hadn't read it. Then I saw a msg from his ex. Basically complaining cuz he hasn't been in touch now that we're together. I wanted to see if he'd replied and while I was looking at his sent msgs he walked in a busted me. I'm an idiot. I should never have looked in the first place. I know he loves me. I just... I don't know. I really gotta work on my trust issues man. I'm better than I was but that's still not good enough.
We didn't talk at all for a few hrs then slowly started the small talk. We're talking fine now but I can still feel a little tension.
Man it's so hot today. Our mate is up from Sydney for the weekend so we've been mixing music n drinking beer lol.
Oh and.. I have a pimple on my eyelid. WTF? It hurts like he'll
Thursday, February 24, 2011
<3
I love my man. So much. We have our separate issues that we deal with together but thats what makes it work.. We deal with them together. I've been having a rough few days for whatever reasons and the last 2 days he has been amazing. He's cooled me Breaky in bed, cooled dinner twice (and an awesome cook he is).. Cleaned up after his cooking etc.. Done all the washing, vacuumed the floor. I've barely had to lift a finger. He gave me cuddles and stroked my hair. Asked me why I'm so lovable. I've been a tad snappy with him and when explaining myself he really seemed to try hard to understand. You know, sometimes o just feel us get that little bit stronger... That little bit closer. I love him with all my heart and the greatest feeling is knowing he loves me too.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Mish Mash
There is so much I want to blog but I either don't know what to write or can't be bothered. I wish I had a dictaphone kind of device that could just record and post from my mind. That would be kind of dangerous though I guess, at times. Besides, it would often make little sense to anyone but myself.
I am so over the cycle of ... well, everything. So tired. I wish I could find my plateau. I go through stages where I feel like I have and I make plans mentally and set goals and get active then somewhere, somehow... something shifts and it slowly all falls apart, quite often without me even realising until I am already in the depths the descent.
Most times, I am quite accepting albeit somewhat frustrated that I am realising AGAIN, I have a 'problem' and I haven't broken through the chains it has forced itself upon me like I have always believed and hoped I could.
Some people, in fact most people will be quick to say 'Just Do It' or 'Get Over It' or 'Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself' or more commonly - 'It's Just an Attention Thing'. I've heard it all, many times. I have also been told I am just lazy or can't be bothered. That's the general populations opinion. When it comes to professionals in Mental Health they don't deny for a moment that I have a 'problem'. In fact - they are quick to agree with me (and yes, I know they DO over diagnose, often incorrectly too). However, it seems that because I can string 2 sentences together, because I have educated myself as much as possible about my mental state and of myself in general, because I do recognise that I need help and go looking for it and that I want to get better... they seem to think that I am 'not that bad'. That I have only a 'mild' case. Look, this may be so to some degree... but just because I have a pretty level head compared to alot of people with mental illness (and also alot of people without mental illness).. it doesn't mean that 'It's not THAT bad.'
I have periods where the very next level of my descent if I got there (thankfully I haven't yet but I have been so fucking close) could quite easily be - suicide. But because I have this thing where when I describe it I say 'It's not that I would do it but I have thoughts of killing myself' it's not really put down to being suicidal. When ok at the time of explaining I may not want to do it but in the depths of my own peice of insanity I am thinking about it but deciding not to.
I can't hold down a job and have NEVER been able to. Not for more than 4 months. I get a job in my 'plans & goals' stage and go hell for leather in trying to improve my life, be somebody and drag myself out of this stupid rut I have been in for as long as I can remember (which is, since the age of 9). I love my job and am excited by it. I am sure to tell my loved ones all about it and how happy I am, how I am finally getting it together. I am unsure if I am telling them because I am trying to convince them or myself. But see, this has happened SO MANY TIMES over the years that they think it's good but know it wont last. I don't quite know WHAT triggers it but eventually I start struggling. Usually, to get out of bed. But even my opinion of it changes. I just don't enjoy it anymore. I start finding more things wrong with it than right. The list goes on. Eventually, I just don't go to work. It starts with calling in sick. Before too long I have too many sick days and I don't even bother to call in anymore, I just don't go back. It's like I just can't face it. Them. The boss or employees. Anyone.
I can barely take care of myself even when things are good. I NEVER stick to routine although I try and I want to. People will tell me I don't try hard enough. FUCK you people. It's hard ok. I'd rather die than live the rest of my life with the feeling I get from trying after awhile to be honest.
It's on the inside that is so mutilated. I heard it described somewhere recently as a 'Silent Illness'. So bloody right. Here's something that nobody can deny is abnormal. I cut myself from time to time. Only enough to draw a little blood. Often not enough to scar. I'm not looking for that and I don't much like pain, only a little when I'm hurting on the inside. Sometimes I'll get a peircing, twice I've gotten a tattoo but I can't do that too often. Yes, it does make me feel better, temporarily. It's like a bandaid. A healthier one than getting myself blind rotten drunk day in day out. Or going out and taking taking drugs and partying myself happily away (until I crash and burn of course, but at least then I'm so tired I have to sleep). I think I have kind of grown out of that now anyways. I too often think about how horrible I will feel after physically. Hell I gave up smoking cold turkey a few months ago and the one thought that has and still does suddenly erase a craving was the memory of how shithouse I would feel in the morning after smoking and how much better I feel now. Physically of course. I think after all these years of not quite knowing WHY I cut myself I have just realised while writing this that perhaps I do it because it's a visual representation (an ever so slight one) of pain that's on the inside. I am externalising it.
I swear I don't do it for attention. Not the kind of attention that 'Attention Seeking' generally labels. The most I am willing to admit it is anything like attention seeking is that sometimes... especially when I was younger it was that I kind of hoped someone would if they saw it say.. 'She isn't coping right now. She needs help.' But over the years I realised that this just wasn't what would happen. I copped alot of negative flack for it. Which of course led me to do what an alcoholic does with their drinking.. hide it. Most times anyhow. Sometimes I simply thought at the time what I do usually when I know I am about to fuck up but just do it anyway cuz I am just that screwed up at the time... 'I'll figure it out later and deal with the consequences then.' Which of course leads to more mind fucking. See for some reason the place I most like to cut is my forearm. It feels better there.
For anyone who actually does read this (which I highly doubt anybody does... I'm on a bit of a rambling downer rant).. so you (HOPEFULLY) see that this is real and not a fake attention thing, I first cut myself at the age of nine, on my thigh where I could cover it. What nine year old does something like that? It is also the age of which I had my first thoughts of suicide. My first thoughts of 'What's the fucking point.' I wrote a poem at the age of 10 or 11. It was written in the first person. As though I were living it. Each verse was about a possible method of a suicide attempt and the last line of each verse described why I couldn't do it that way.
And THAT has been my fear of hanging myself. That is really what has stopped me from doing it. Being afraid that I will realise only too late that I don't want to die. But I won't be able to do anything about it.
I WAS 9 YEARS OLD AND THINKING THESE THINGS IN DEPTH, and I still do. But the fear IS (very very slowly thank goodness) getting less and less.
How THE FUCK do I not have a problem that needs to be taken seriously. The difference between me and someone who has the same diagnosis yet is treated with kit gloves is that I do fucking soldier on. I am patient and wait my turn to be treated properly. A turn that never comes. It's fucking hard ok. It's hard because I know I appear to be normal in so many ways on the outside but on the inside I'm not. I seem to have alot of common sense compared to most people 'with my diagnosis'. I am SO tempted to let it all go and go HERE - THIS IS ME - THIS IS CRAZY and completely give in to it all and just let myself go.
But I don't. My little descents and outbursts and what have you are not me letting go. They are my little explosions as a result of holding it all in and trying as best I can to be normal.
Lol... when I started this blog I was determined that I would keep all this kind of stuff out of it. That I would make it a happy place. Even a humurous place. Also, I don't particularly want anyone I know to stumble across this anyway... let alone with a detailed account of 'the truth'. But - ah well.
You know what actually inspired me to start blogging? And I know in some way to someone this will sound bad but I just never really knew what a blog was.. BUT, I was sitting next to my friend at her place and she told me of this woman her friend in QLD told her about. The QLD woman was a blogger and a blog she followed written by a stay at home mum had an entry saying her husband had a psychotic episode and had done something out of character and was now in a coma and that they were going to turn of his life support. As my friend went to this blog to have a read, it made me think of my own friend that was admitted to ICU only days before and was also in a coma due to him hanging himself. I texted the friend that had introduced him and I in the first place and asked for an update of the situation. She replied that they were going to turn off his life support machine that day. I told the friend that was sitting next to me (as she was still reading) and she asked me what his name was. I told her and she kind of looked at me funny. She was reading his wife's blog. We live in NSW. Coincidence huh?! I have since been following it and feeling for his wife. But not wanting to comment or anything. Just kind of silently watching. I want to comment but in a way I don't feel like I have the right for some reason. I just want to let her know I am thinking of her and her 2 small children. Anyways... that's how I came to writing a blog.
I almost feel guilty though.. about it. Because of the depression thing. What also kind of is affecting me in some way.. although I am not yet sure how... The Mister told me when we very first started seeing each other that around 4 months prior he has tried to hang himself twice but he was really drunk and the rope wasnt tied properly or something so it didnt work. He has struggled with depression he says for about 2 or so years. He is also an alcoholic. But not an in an offensive way. If he hadn't of told me I seriously wouldn't have known. I can't even now that I know him well, tell when he has been drinking. At most I think he might have been?
He has been showing signs of his depression worsening for a little now. Yesterday he said to me that he felt like he didn't know if he wants to burst into laughter or burst into tears. He said he felt like he is heading for some kind of break down and that he was going to have a mind snap. Then he said something that scared the shit out of me. Because of what he told me happened 4 months before we started seeing each other and also because of my own friends recent death (5 or so weeks ago). Also possibly because when I was 16 my uncle tried to hang himself and is now quite brain damged. He said he just hoped it wasn't a really bad one.
I asked if he meant now in the car, in a few days or weeks or months or what? What did he mean? He simply replied, I don't know I'm just putting it out there.. or words to that effect.
I can only hope he is like me in this way like he is like me in so many other ways... that he wont do it really. But how do I know? I don't obviously.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS!!
It's not that I am thinking I CAN'T deal with this. That I am struggling myself so it's too much. IT'S NOT. I just don't know how the fuck to do it. What I am supposed to do. I am too scared to do anything because I fear I will make it worse. And I am too scared not to do anything for obvious reasons. I just don't know WHAT to do.
This is not at all the reason for my current descent. I promise. And it's not keeping me down there. It just is.
I am so over the cycle of ... well, everything. So tired. I wish I could find my plateau. I go through stages where I feel like I have and I make plans mentally and set goals and get active then somewhere, somehow... something shifts and it slowly all falls apart, quite often without me even realising until I am already in the depths the descent.
Most times, I am quite accepting albeit somewhat frustrated that I am realising AGAIN, I have a 'problem' and I haven't broken through the chains it has forced itself upon me like I have always believed and hoped I could.
Some people, in fact most people will be quick to say 'Just Do It' or 'Get Over It' or 'Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself' or more commonly - 'It's Just an Attention Thing'. I've heard it all, many times. I have also been told I am just lazy or can't be bothered. That's the general populations opinion. When it comes to professionals in Mental Health they don't deny for a moment that I have a 'problem'. In fact - they are quick to agree with me (and yes, I know they DO over diagnose, often incorrectly too). However, it seems that because I can string 2 sentences together, because I have educated myself as much as possible about my mental state and of myself in general, because I do recognise that I need help and go looking for it and that I want to get better... they seem to think that I am 'not that bad'. That I have only a 'mild' case. Look, this may be so to some degree... but just because I have a pretty level head compared to alot of people with mental illness (and also alot of people without mental illness).. it doesn't mean that 'It's not THAT bad.'
I have periods where the very next level of my descent if I got there (thankfully I haven't yet but I have been so fucking close) could quite easily be - suicide. But because I have this thing where when I describe it I say 'It's not that I would do it but I have thoughts of killing myself' it's not really put down to being suicidal. When ok at the time of explaining I may not want to do it but in the depths of my own peice of insanity I am thinking about it but deciding not to.
I can't hold down a job and have NEVER been able to. Not for more than 4 months. I get a job in my 'plans & goals' stage and go hell for leather in trying to improve my life, be somebody and drag myself out of this stupid rut I have been in for as long as I can remember (which is, since the age of 9). I love my job and am excited by it. I am sure to tell my loved ones all about it and how happy I am, how I am finally getting it together. I am unsure if I am telling them because I am trying to convince them or myself. But see, this has happened SO MANY TIMES over the years that they think it's good but know it wont last. I don't quite know WHAT triggers it but eventually I start struggling. Usually, to get out of bed. But even my opinion of it changes. I just don't enjoy it anymore. I start finding more things wrong with it than right. The list goes on. Eventually, I just don't go to work. It starts with calling in sick. Before too long I have too many sick days and I don't even bother to call in anymore, I just don't go back. It's like I just can't face it. Them. The boss or employees. Anyone.
I can barely take care of myself even when things are good. I NEVER stick to routine although I try and I want to. People will tell me I don't try hard enough. FUCK you people. It's hard ok. I'd rather die than live the rest of my life with the feeling I get from trying after awhile to be honest.
It's on the inside that is so mutilated. I heard it described somewhere recently as a 'Silent Illness'. So bloody right. Here's something that nobody can deny is abnormal. I cut myself from time to time. Only enough to draw a little blood. Often not enough to scar. I'm not looking for that and I don't much like pain, only a little when I'm hurting on the inside. Sometimes I'll get a peircing, twice I've gotten a tattoo but I can't do that too often. Yes, it does make me feel better, temporarily. It's like a bandaid. A healthier one than getting myself blind rotten drunk day in day out. Or going out and taking taking drugs and partying myself happily away (until I crash and burn of course, but at least then I'm so tired I have to sleep). I think I have kind of grown out of that now anyways. I too often think about how horrible I will feel after physically. Hell I gave up smoking cold turkey a few months ago and the one thought that has and still does suddenly erase a craving was the memory of how shithouse I would feel in the morning after smoking and how much better I feel now. Physically of course. I think after all these years of not quite knowing WHY I cut myself I have just realised while writing this that perhaps I do it because it's a visual representation (an ever so slight one) of pain that's on the inside. I am externalising it.
I swear I don't do it for attention. Not the kind of attention that 'Attention Seeking' generally labels. The most I am willing to admit it is anything like attention seeking is that sometimes... especially when I was younger it was that I kind of hoped someone would if they saw it say.. 'She isn't coping right now. She needs help.' But over the years I realised that this just wasn't what would happen. I copped alot of negative flack for it. Which of course led me to do what an alcoholic does with their drinking.. hide it. Most times anyhow. Sometimes I simply thought at the time what I do usually when I know I am about to fuck up but just do it anyway cuz I am just that screwed up at the time... 'I'll figure it out later and deal with the consequences then.' Which of course leads to more mind fucking. See for some reason the place I most like to cut is my forearm. It feels better there.
For anyone who actually does read this (which I highly doubt anybody does... I'm on a bit of a rambling downer rant).. so you (HOPEFULLY) see that this is real and not a fake attention thing, I first cut myself at the age of nine, on my thigh where I could cover it. What nine year old does something like that? It is also the age of which I had my first thoughts of suicide. My first thoughts of 'What's the fucking point.' I wrote a poem at the age of 10 or 11. It was written in the first person. As though I were living it. Each verse was about a possible method of a suicide attempt and the last line of each verse described why I couldn't do it that way.
- Cutting my wrists - Afraid of the pain
- Taking pills - Afraid of stomach cramps (As I've grown older - I was only 9 - I learnt that you generally pass out)
- Jumping - Afraid of the falling feeling
- Swimming out so far into the ocean that I could not possibly have the energy to swim back - afraid that I would be eaten by a shark instead (I was 9 remember)
And THAT has been my fear of hanging myself. That is really what has stopped me from doing it. Being afraid that I will realise only too late that I don't want to die. But I won't be able to do anything about it.
I WAS 9 YEARS OLD AND THINKING THESE THINGS IN DEPTH, and I still do. But the fear IS (very very slowly thank goodness) getting less and less.
How THE FUCK do I not have a problem that needs to be taken seriously. The difference between me and someone who has the same diagnosis yet is treated with kit gloves is that I do fucking soldier on. I am patient and wait my turn to be treated properly. A turn that never comes. It's fucking hard ok. It's hard because I know I appear to be normal in so many ways on the outside but on the inside I'm not. I seem to have alot of common sense compared to most people 'with my diagnosis'. I am SO tempted to let it all go and go HERE - THIS IS ME - THIS IS CRAZY and completely give in to it all and just let myself go.
But I don't. My little descents and outbursts and what have you are not me letting go. They are my little explosions as a result of holding it all in and trying as best I can to be normal.
Lol... when I started this blog I was determined that I would keep all this kind of stuff out of it. That I would make it a happy place. Even a humurous place. Also, I don't particularly want anyone I know to stumble across this anyway... let alone with a detailed account of 'the truth'. But - ah well.
You know what actually inspired me to start blogging? And I know in some way to someone this will sound bad but I just never really knew what a blog was.. BUT, I was sitting next to my friend at her place and she told me of this woman her friend in QLD told her about. The QLD woman was a blogger and a blog she followed written by a stay at home mum had an entry saying her husband had a psychotic episode and had done something out of character and was now in a coma and that they were going to turn of his life support. As my friend went to this blog to have a read, it made me think of my own friend that was admitted to ICU only days before and was also in a coma due to him hanging himself. I texted the friend that had introduced him and I in the first place and asked for an update of the situation. She replied that they were going to turn off his life support machine that day. I told the friend that was sitting next to me (as she was still reading) and she asked me what his name was. I told her and she kind of looked at me funny. She was reading his wife's blog. We live in NSW. Coincidence huh?! I have since been following it and feeling for his wife. But not wanting to comment or anything. Just kind of silently watching. I want to comment but in a way I don't feel like I have the right for some reason. I just want to let her know I am thinking of her and her 2 small children. Anyways... that's how I came to writing a blog.
I almost feel guilty though.. about it. Because of the depression thing. What also kind of is affecting me in some way.. although I am not yet sure how... The Mister told me when we very first started seeing each other that around 4 months prior he has tried to hang himself twice but he was really drunk and the rope wasnt tied properly or something so it didnt work. He has struggled with depression he says for about 2 or so years. He is also an alcoholic. But not an in an offensive way. If he hadn't of told me I seriously wouldn't have known. I can't even now that I know him well, tell when he has been drinking. At most I think he might have been?
He has been showing signs of his depression worsening for a little now. Yesterday he said to me that he felt like he didn't know if he wants to burst into laughter or burst into tears. He said he felt like he is heading for some kind of break down and that he was going to have a mind snap. Then he said something that scared the shit out of me. Because of what he told me happened 4 months before we started seeing each other and also because of my own friends recent death (5 or so weeks ago). Also possibly because when I was 16 my uncle tried to hang himself and is now quite brain damged. He said he just hoped it wasn't a really bad one.
I asked if he meant now in the car, in a few days or weeks or months or what? What did he mean? He simply replied, I don't know I'm just putting it out there.. or words to that effect.
I can only hope he is like me in this way like he is like me in so many other ways... that he wont do it really. But how do I know? I don't obviously.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS!!
It's not that I am thinking I CAN'T deal with this. That I am struggling myself so it's too much. IT'S NOT. I just don't know how the fuck to do it. What I am supposed to do. I am too scared to do anything because I fear I will make it worse. And I am too scared not to do anything for obvious reasons. I just don't know WHAT to do.
This is not at all the reason for my current descent. I promise. And it's not keeping me down there. It just is.
Mish Mash
There is so much I want to blog but I either don't know what to write or can't be bothered. I wish I had a dictaphone kind of device that could just record and post from my mind. That would be kind of dangerous though I guess, at times. Besides, it would often make little sense to anyone but myself.
I am so over the cycle of ... well, everything. So tired. I wish I could find my plateau. I go through stages where I feel like I have and I make plans mentally and set goals and get active then somewhere, somehow... something shifts and it slowly all falls apart, quite often without me even realising until I am already in the depths the descent.
Most times, I am quite accepting albeit somewhat frustrated that I am realising AGAIN, I have a 'problem' and I haven't broken through the chains it has forced itself upon me like I have always believed and hoped I could.
Some people, in fact most people will be quick to say 'Just Do It' or 'Get Over It' or 'Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself' or more commonly - 'It's Just an Attention Thing'. I've heard it all, many times. I have also been told I am just lazy or can't be bothered. That's the general populations opinion. When it comes to professionals in Mental Health they don't deny for a moment that I have a 'problem'. In fact - they are quick to agree with me (and yes, I know they DO over diagnose, often incorrectly too). However, it seems that because I can string 2 sentences together, because I have educated myself as much as possible about my mental state and of myself in general, because I do recognise that I need help and go looking for it and that I want to get better... they seem to think that I am 'not that bad'. That I have only a 'mild' case. Look, this may be so to some degree... but just because I have a pretty level head compared to alot of people with mental illness (and also alot of people without mental illness).. it doesn't mean that 'It's not THAT bad.'
I have periods where the very next level of my descent if I got there (thankfully I haven't yet but I have been so fucking close) could quite easily be - suicide. But because I have this thing where when I describe it I say 'It's not that I would do it but I have thoughts of killing myself' it's not really put down to being suicidal. When ok at the time of explaining I may not want to do it but in the depths of my own peice of insanity I am thinking about it but deciding not to.
I can't hold down a job and have NEVER been able to. Not for more than 4 months. I get a job in my 'plans & goals' stage and go hell for leather in trying to improve my life, be somebody and drag myself out of this stupid rut I have been in for as long as I can remember (which is, since the age of 9). I love my job and am excited by it. I am sure to tell my loved ones all about it and how happy I am, how I am finally getting it together. I am unsure if I am telling them because I am trying to convince them or myself. But see, this has happened SO MANY TIMES over the years that they think it's good but know it wont last. I don't quite know WHAT triggers it but eventually I start struggling. Usually, to get out of bed. But even my opinion of it changes. I just don't enjoy it anymore. I start finding more things wrong with it than right. The list goes on. Eventually, I just don't go to work. It starts with calling in sick. Before too long I have too many sick days and I don't even bother to call in anymore, I just don't go back. It's like I just can't face it. Them. The boss or employees. Anyone.
I can barely take care of myself even when things are good. I NEVER stick to routine although I try and I want to. People will tell me I don't try hard enough. FUCK you people. It's hard ok. I'd rather die than live the rest of my life with the feeling I get from trying after awhile to be honest.
It's on the inside that is so mutilated. I heard it described somewhere recently as a 'Silent Illness'. So bloody right. Here's something that nobody can deny is abnormal. I cut myself from time to time. Only enough to draw a little blood. Often not enough to scar. I'm not looking for that and I don't much like pain, only a little when I'm hurting on the inside. Sometimes I'll get a peircing, twice I've gotten a tattoo but I can't do that too often. Yes, it does make me feel better, temporarily. It's like a bandaid. A healthier one than getting myself blind rotten drunk day in day out. Or going out and taking taking drugs and partying myself happily away (until I crash and burn of course, but at least then I'm so tired I have to sleep). I think I have kind of grown out of that now anyways. I too often think about how horrible I will feel after physically. Hell I gave up smoking cold turkey a few months ago and the one thought that has and still does suddenly erase a craving was the memory of how shithouse I would feel in the morning after smoking and how much better I feel now. Physically of course. I think after all these years of not quite knowing WHY I cut myself I have just realised while writing this that perhaps I do it because it's a visual representation (an ever so slight one) of pain that's on the inside. I am externalising it.
I swear I don't do it for attention. Not the kind of attention that 'Attention Seeking' generally labels. The most I am willing to admit it is anything like attention seeking is that sometimes... especially when I was younger it was that I kind of hoped someone would if they saw it say.. 'She isn't coping right now. She needs help.' But over the years I realised that this just wasn't what would happen. I copped alot of negative flack for it. Which of course led me to do what an alcoholic does with their drinking.. hide it. Most times anyhow. Sometimes I simply thought at the time what I do usually when I know I am about to fuck up but just do it anyway cuz I am just that screwed up at the time... 'I'll figure it out later and deal with the consequences then.' Which of course leads to more mind fucking. See for some reason the place I most like to cut is my forearm. It feels better there.
For anyone who actually does read this (which I highly doubt anybody does... I'm on a bit of a rambling downer rant).. so you (HOPEFULLY) see that this is real and not a fake attention thing, I first cut myself at the age of nine, on my thigh where I could cover it. What nine year old does something like that? It is also the age of which I had my first thoughts of suicide. My first thoughts of 'What's the fucking point.' I wrote a poem at the age of 10 or 11. It was written in the first person. As though I were living it. Each verse was about a possible method of a suicide attempt and the last line of each verse described why I couldn't do it that way.
And THAT has been my fear of hanging myself. That is really what has stopped me from doing it. Being afraid that I will realise only too late that I don't want to die. But I won't be able to do anything about it.
I WAS 9 YEARS OLD AND THINKING THESE THINGS IN DEPTH, and I still do. But the fear IS (very very slowly thank goodness) getting less and less.
How THE FUCK do I not have a problem that needs to be taken seriously. The difference between me and someone who has the same diagnosis yet is treated with kit gloves is that I do fucking soldier on. I am patient and wait my turn to be treated properly. A turn that never comes. It's fucking hard ok. It's hard because I know I appear to be normal in so many ways on the outside but on the inside I'm not. I seem to have alot of common sense compared to most people 'with my diagnosis'. I am SO tempted to let it all go and go HERE - THIS IS ME - THIS IS CRAZY and completely give in to it all and just let myself go.
But I don't. My little descents and outbursts and what have you are not me letting go. They are my little explosions as a result of holding it all in and trying as best I can to be normal.
Lol... when I started this blog I was determined that I would keep all this kind of stuff out of it. That I would make it a happy place. Even a humurous place. Also, I don't particularly want anyone I know to stumble across this anyway... let alone with a detailed account of 'the truth'. But - ah well.
You know what actually inspired me to start blogging? And I know in some way to someone this will sound bad but I just never really knew what a blog was.. BUT, I was sitting next to my friend at her place and she told me of this woman her friend in QLD told her about. The QLD woman was a blogger and a blog she followed written by a stay at home mum had an entry saying her husband had a psychotic episode and had done something out of character and was now in a coma and that they were going to turn of his life support. As my friend went to this blog to have a read, it made me think of my own friend that was admitted to ICU only days before and was also in a coma due to him hanging himself. I texted the friend that had introduced him and I in the first place and asked for an update of the situation. She replied that they were going to turn off his life support machine that day. I told the friend that was sitting next to me (as she was still reading) and she asked me what his name was. I told her and she kind of looked at me funny. She was reading his wife's blog. We live in NSW. Coincidence huh?! I have since been following it and feeling for his wife. But not wanting to comment or anything. Just kind of silently watching. I want to comment but in a way I don't feel like I have the right for some reason. I just want to let her know I am thinking of her and her 2 small children. Anyways... that's how I came to writing a blog.
I almost feel guilty though.. about it. Because of the depression thing. What also kind of is affecting me in some way.. although I am not yet sure how... The Mister told me when we very first started seeing each other that around 4 months prior he has tried to hang himself twice but he was really drunk and the rope wasnt tied properly or something so it didnt work. He has struggled with depression he says for about 2 or so years. He is also an alcoholic. But not an in an offensive way. If he hadn't of told me I seriously wouldn't have known. I can't even now that I know him well, tell when he has been drinking. At most I think he might have been?
He has been showing signs of his depression worsening for a little now. Yesterday he said to me that he felt like he didn't know if he wants to burst into laughter or burst into tears. He said he felt like he is heading for some kind of break down and that he was going to have a mind snap. Then he said something that scared the shit out of me. Because of what he told me happened 4 months before we started seeing each other and also because of my own friends recent death (5 or so weeks ago). Also possibly because when I was 16 my uncle tried to hang himself and is now quite brain damged. He said he just hoped it wasn't a really bad one.
I asked if he meant now in the car, in a few days or weeks or months or what? What did he mean? He simply replied, I don't know I'm just putting it out there.. or words to that effect.
I can only hope he is like me in this way like he is like me in so many other ways... that he wont do it really. But how do I know? I don't obviously.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS!!
It's not that I am thinking I CAN'T deal with this. That I am struggling myself so it's too much. IT'S NOT. I just don't know how the fuck to do it. What I am supposed to do. I am too scared to do anything because I fear I will make it worse. And I am too scared not to do anything for obvious reasons. I just don't know WHAT to do.
This is not at all the reason for my current descent. I promise. And it's not keeping me down there. It just is.
I am so over the cycle of ... well, everything. So tired. I wish I could find my plateau. I go through stages where I feel like I have and I make plans mentally and set goals and get active then somewhere, somehow... something shifts and it slowly all falls apart, quite often without me even realising until I am already in the depths the descent.
Most times, I am quite accepting albeit somewhat frustrated that I am realising AGAIN, I have a 'problem' and I haven't broken through the chains it has forced itself upon me like I have always believed and hoped I could.
Some people, in fact most people will be quick to say 'Just Do It' or 'Get Over It' or 'Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself' or more commonly - 'It's Just an Attention Thing'. I've heard it all, many times. I have also been told I am just lazy or can't be bothered. That's the general populations opinion. When it comes to professionals in Mental Health they don't deny for a moment that I have a 'problem'. In fact - they are quick to agree with me (and yes, I know they DO over diagnose, often incorrectly too). However, it seems that because I can string 2 sentences together, because I have educated myself as much as possible about my mental state and of myself in general, because I do recognise that I need help and go looking for it and that I want to get better... they seem to think that I am 'not that bad'. That I have only a 'mild' case. Look, this may be so to some degree... but just because I have a pretty level head compared to alot of people with mental illness (and also alot of people without mental illness).. it doesn't mean that 'It's not THAT bad.'
I have periods where the very next level of my descent if I got there (thankfully I haven't yet but I have been so fucking close) could quite easily be - suicide. But because I have this thing where when I describe it I say 'It's not that I would do it but I have thoughts of killing myself' it's not really put down to being suicidal. When ok at the time of explaining I may not want to do it but in the depths of my own peice of insanity I am thinking about it but deciding not to.
I can't hold down a job and have NEVER been able to. Not for more than 4 months. I get a job in my 'plans & goals' stage and go hell for leather in trying to improve my life, be somebody and drag myself out of this stupid rut I have been in for as long as I can remember (which is, since the age of 9). I love my job and am excited by it. I am sure to tell my loved ones all about it and how happy I am, how I am finally getting it together. I am unsure if I am telling them because I am trying to convince them or myself. But see, this has happened SO MANY TIMES over the years that they think it's good but know it wont last. I don't quite know WHAT triggers it but eventually I start struggling. Usually, to get out of bed. But even my opinion of it changes. I just don't enjoy it anymore. I start finding more things wrong with it than right. The list goes on. Eventually, I just don't go to work. It starts with calling in sick. Before too long I have too many sick days and I don't even bother to call in anymore, I just don't go back. It's like I just can't face it. Them. The boss or employees. Anyone.
I can barely take care of myself even when things are good. I NEVER stick to routine although I try and I want to. People will tell me I don't try hard enough. FUCK you people. It's hard ok. I'd rather die than live the rest of my life with the feeling I get from trying after awhile to be honest.
It's on the inside that is so mutilated. I heard it described somewhere recently as a 'Silent Illness'. So bloody right. Here's something that nobody can deny is abnormal. I cut myself from time to time. Only enough to draw a little blood. Often not enough to scar. I'm not looking for that and I don't much like pain, only a little when I'm hurting on the inside. Sometimes I'll get a peircing, twice I've gotten a tattoo but I can't do that too often. Yes, it does make me feel better, temporarily. It's like a bandaid. A healthier one than getting myself blind rotten drunk day in day out. Or going out and taking taking drugs and partying myself happily away (until I crash and burn of course, but at least then I'm so tired I have to sleep). I think I have kind of grown out of that now anyways. I too often think about how horrible I will feel after physically. Hell I gave up smoking cold turkey a few months ago and the one thought that has and still does suddenly erase a craving was the memory of how shithouse I would feel in the morning after smoking and how much better I feel now. Physically of course. I think after all these years of not quite knowing WHY I cut myself I have just realised while writing this that perhaps I do it because it's a visual representation (an ever so slight one) of pain that's on the inside. I am externalising it.
I swear I don't do it for attention. Not the kind of attention that 'Attention Seeking' generally labels. The most I am willing to admit it is anything like attention seeking is that sometimes... especially when I was younger it was that I kind of hoped someone would if they saw it say.. 'She isn't coping right now. She needs help.' But over the years I realised that this just wasn't what would happen. I copped alot of negative flack for it. Which of course led me to do what an alcoholic does with their drinking.. hide it. Most times anyhow. Sometimes I simply thought at the time what I do usually when I know I am about to fuck up but just do it anyway cuz I am just that screwed up at the time... 'I'll figure it out later and deal with the consequences then.' Which of course leads to more mind fucking. See for some reason the place I most like to cut is my forearm. It feels better there.
For anyone who actually does read this (which I highly doubt anybody does... I'm on a bit of a rambling downer rant).. so you (HOPEFULLY) see that this is real and not a fake attention thing, I first cut myself at the age of nine, on my thigh where I could cover it. What nine year old does something like that? It is also the age of which I had my first thoughts of suicide. My first thoughts of 'What's the fucking point.' I wrote a poem at the age of 10 or 11. It was written in the first person. As though I were living it. Each verse was about a possible method of a suicide attempt and the last line of each verse described why I couldn't do it that way.
- Cutting my wrists - Afraid of the pain
- Taking pills - Afraid of stomach cramps (As I've grown older - I was only 9 - I learnt that you generally pass out)
- Jumping - Afraid of the falling feeling
- Swimming out so far into the ocean that I could not possibly have the energy to swim back - afraid that I would be eaten by a shark instead (I was 9 remember)
And THAT has been my fear of hanging myself. That is really what has stopped me from doing it. Being afraid that I will realise only too late that I don't want to die. But I won't be able to do anything about it.
I WAS 9 YEARS OLD AND THINKING THESE THINGS IN DEPTH, and I still do. But the fear IS (very very slowly thank goodness) getting less and less.
How THE FUCK do I not have a problem that needs to be taken seriously. The difference between me and someone who has the same diagnosis yet is treated with kit gloves is that I do fucking soldier on. I am patient and wait my turn to be treated properly. A turn that never comes. It's fucking hard ok. It's hard because I know I appear to be normal in so many ways on the outside but on the inside I'm not. I seem to have alot of common sense compared to most people 'with my diagnosis'. I am SO tempted to let it all go and go HERE - THIS IS ME - THIS IS CRAZY and completely give in to it all and just let myself go.
But I don't. My little descents and outbursts and what have you are not me letting go. They are my little explosions as a result of holding it all in and trying as best I can to be normal.
Lol... when I started this blog I was determined that I would keep all this kind of stuff out of it. That I would make it a happy place. Even a humurous place. Also, I don't particularly want anyone I know to stumble across this anyway... let alone with a detailed account of 'the truth'. But - ah well.
You know what actually inspired me to start blogging? And I know in some way to someone this will sound bad but I just never really knew what a blog was.. BUT, I was sitting next to my friend at her place and she told me of this woman her friend in QLD told her about. The QLD woman was a blogger and a blog she followed written by a stay at home mum had an entry saying her husband had a psychotic episode and had done something out of character and was now in a coma and that they were going to turn of his life support. As my friend went to this blog to have a read, it made me think of my own friend that was admitted to ICU only days before and was also in a coma due to him hanging himself. I texted the friend that had introduced him and I in the first place and asked for an update of the situation. She replied that they were going to turn off his life support machine that day. I told the friend that was sitting next to me (as she was still reading) and she asked me what his name was. I told her and she kind of looked at me funny. She was reading his wife's blog. We live in NSW. Coincidence huh?! I have since been following it and feeling for his wife. But not wanting to comment or anything. Just kind of silently watching. I want to comment but in a way I don't feel like I have the right for some reason. I just want to let her know I am thinking of her and her 2 small children. Anyways... that's how I came to writing a blog.
I almost feel guilty though.. about it. Because of the depression thing. What also kind of is affecting me in some way.. although I am not yet sure how... The Mister told me when we very first started seeing each other that around 4 months prior he has tried to hang himself twice but he was really drunk and the rope wasnt tied properly or something so it didnt work. He has struggled with depression he says for about 2 or so years. He is also an alcoholic. But not an in an offensive way. If he hadn't of told me I seriously wouldn't have known. I can't even now that I know him well, tell when he has been drinking. At most I think he might have been?
He has been showing signs of his depression worsening for a little now. Yesterday he said to me that he felt like he didn't know if he wants to burst into laughter or burst into tears. He said he felt like he is heading for some kind of break down and that he was going to have a mind snap. Then he said something that scared the shit out of me. Because of what he told me happened 4 months before we started seeing each other and also because of my own friends recent death (5 or so weeks ago). Also possibly because when I was 16 my uncle tried to hang himself and is now quite brain damged. He said he just hoped it wasn't a really bad one.
I asked if he meant now in the car, in a few days or weeks or months or what? What did he mean? He simply replied, I don't know I'm just putting it out there.. or words to that effect.
I can only hope he is like me in this way like he is like me in so many other ways... that he wont do it really. But how do I know? I don't obviously.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS!!
It's not that I am thinking I CAN'T deal with this. That I am struggling myself so it's too much. IT'S NOT. I just don't know how the fuck to do it. What I am supposed to do. I am too scared to do anything because I fear I will make it worse. And I am too scared not to do anything for obvious reasons. I just don't know WHAT to do.
This is not at all the reason for my current descent. I promise. And it's not keeping me down there. It just is.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Bah humbug
no not really. I'm happy. BUT I'm really missing things. Internet mostly. And the mister, I'm sure he is too. We are both big fans of the net (which is awesome seeing as we must live with each other spending a significant amou t of time with/on it). 2 things I need it for mostly. Poker is one. Blogging is 2nd. Even now I'm doing it from my iPhone but it's just not feasible. I have a blogger app but it only let's me post to my drafts SOOOo... I'm going to be doing that for a bit and posti g them all when I can. Man can't wait to get this shit sorted.
Ciao
LATER THAT NIGHT.
So I had a great day. awesome. Shit night tho. Really shit night. Ah I hate this. When does it fcken end. I thought it was over.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows everywhere...
Not really. Rain clouds, dog chews and humidity. BUT... I had the best night sleep I have had in a long time last night. It was very broken but still wonderful because I was only waking up to The Mister putting his arm under or around my head, or touching my skin or stroking my hair. We had so much fun last night playing Uka. Even if I did stuff up the game a gazillion times haha.
I think we are going to have to come up with a plan soon to give us something to do other than just sit around the van watching tv and sleeping. It's nice now but pretty soon it's gonna get under our skin. We don't need anything else to bring us down.
I got a script for anti depressants yesterday. Im going to give them a go. I'm hoping that they work for once. I need to get out of this bloody rut. Thing is though, the anxiety isn't being treated. Just wish I new if the depression was caused by the anxiety or if the anxiety was caused by the depression.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Numero Uno
Last night was our first night in our Little Mexico. Today is our first day. Pretty happy with it all. So is The Mister. Things have been tense lately. We have been fighting alot. Well, alot for us. I've been so snappy. This morning however I really feel at peace and happy. As The Mister said last night, we both don't have that outer pressure anymore. He also at one point said he was so excited to be back in the van. We've set it up really well. It has so much space and looks really cool. We have our own space to be able to our own thing too. it's not like a normal little cluttered up caravan. And once we build the other rooms it will be even more spacious. The Mister is cooking yummy bacon and egg muffins, the dog is chilling out on the floor beside the bed.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Andale! Andale! Arriba! Arriba! Yiii-hah!
I haven't got alot to write about tonight. Well, perhaps I do but I am tired and The Mister will be out of the shower soon and no doubt we will be watching something .
We had another decent day at Little Mexico (my new pet name for our little home). We moved the lounge into the bedroom and the bedroom into the loungeroom. At first I wasn't too keen on the idea because The Mister said it will be good for us to have our own space from each other from time to time. There will be computer access in both our bedroom and the 'War Room' as he called it. At first this kind of struck me as a negative thing because I thought we both had fun hanging out all the time. Sitting there on our computers doing our thing. He assures me he does but says this will be a good thing for when we feel like we need space. He's right. I know. I am just incredibally insecure at the moment for some reason.
I think it's rather odd how in one way - without change I feel stifled.. I feel trapped and seek out spontaneity often doing things out of the blue that leaves others thinking I am just irresponsible. Little do they know that I in fact AM being responsible, responsible for my own mental health at the time.
Then on the otherhand when change is forced upon me I feel like I'm clutching at straws trying to decide which way to turn, if I am lucky enough at the time to even be able to see any future in any direction at all. I can go either way when I'm in this phaze. Last night for example, I lost it. I unwound completely. I needed it. Do I regret it? No. Because I know that putting it off was only detrimental to myself in the long run.
On a happier note, Little Mexico is rather exciting. Oh to paint it up and decorate!! (We have to get permission off The Misters mother first as I believe it must be her van? There are so many ideas floating around right now. Right down to us doing away with the lounge and purchasing bean bags instead. I'd like to try colour co-ordinate as much as possible.
For awhile now I have wanted a pet. I have ALWAYS had a pet =( I know we have Staffikins but he is The Mister's dog. I'd like my own. One day.
Ahhh... I must sleep now as I have work tomorrow. Then our first night in Little Mexico ;)
We had another decent day at Little Mexico (my new pet name for our little home). We moved the lounge into the bedroom and the bedroom into the loungeroom. At first I wasn't too keen on the idea because The Mister said it will be good for us to have our own space from each other from time to time. There will be computer access in both our bedroom and the 'War Room' as he called it. At first this kind of struck me as a negative thing because I thought we both had fun hanging out all the time. Sitting there on our computers doing our thing. He assures me he does but says this will be a good thing for when we feel like we need space. He's right. I know. I am just incredibally insecure at the moment for some reason.
I think it's rather odd how in one way - without change I feel stifled.. I feel trapped and seek out spontaneity often doing things out of the blue that leaves others thinking I am just irresponsible. Little do they know that I in fact AM being responsible, responsible for my own mental health at the time.
Then on the otherhand when change is forced upon me I feel like I'm clutching at straws trying to decide which way to turn, if I am lucky enough at the time to even be able to see any future in any direction at all. I can go either way when I'm in this phaze. Last night for example, I lost it. I unwound completely. I needed it. Do I regret it? No. Because I know that putting it off was only detrimental to myself in the long run.
On a happier note, Little Mexico is rather exciting. Oh to paint it up and decorate!! (We have to get permission off The Misters mother first as I believe it must be her van? There are so many ideas floating around right now. Right down to us doing away with the lounge and purchasing bean bags instead. I'd like to try colour co-ordinate as much as possible.
For awhile now I have wanted a pet. I have ALWAYS had a pet =( I know we have Staffikins but he is The Mister's dog. I'd like my own. One day.
Ahhh... I must sleep now as I have work tomorrow. Then our first night in Little Mexico ;)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Too much too much.... you had too much....
So... How much is too much? How much information about my private life is enough to let me 'get it out' so I don't crumble inside? How much information is enough to feel like I'm possibly 'sharing' (even if only with my computer) my thoughts and shit instead of seemingly unloading them all on The Mister. Potentially causing him to spiral out of whack himself? Or even ... as usually happens, unload on him with some kind of hope (yet not expectance) that he will just listen and try to understand even if he doesn't, take me into his arms, tell me he loves me and that it's all gonna be ok?
For now, I'll keep it limited. Even just a little bit is 'too much'. Besides, I'm sure that other people out there are having a much harder time than I am right now.
Aaaaannnyways...
We got heaps of 'outside work' done at the van today. Cleaned it up heaps. In 2 days we have made alot of progress. Still lots to go but meh.. we'll get there. I have big plans for that little place :)
I dont know how long it will be before The Mister moves out with me. I wish he would just move out with me now but he has made it clear that's not gonna happen just yet. Where we live (which is understandable...) A) Our housie is his mate and B) his parents own the place. He doesn't want to further upset the apple cart See, I expect it to only be a few weeks... at most! But, I don't want to disappoint myself either... something I almost always do. Which is also coincidentally is the reason for alot of my problems in this relationship.
Hmm relationship - Finally after well... 6 months I think I can call it that. Finally!! You know what - Valentines Day is in 4 days.. and while I am sure (because I know me!) I am going to subcinsciously hope for some kind of sweet recognition from The Mister of the day... if it doesn't happen.. I'm pretty sure this yr I'm not gonna mind so much providing we spend it together (why wouldn't I - we are together everyday anyhow) because - well, I have him. And that's enough. It's enough always but ESPECIALLY this year - it's more than enough.
Alrighty then - he has just brought me an amazing curry dinner so I'm gonna go for now but might be back later.
til then ;)
For now, I'll keep it limited. Even just a little bit is 'too much'. Besides, I'm sure that other people out there are having a much harder time than I am right now.
Aaaaannnyways...
We got heaps of 'outside work' done at the van today. Cleaned it up heaps. In 2 days we have made alot of progress. Still lots to go but meh.. we'll get there. I have big plans for that little place :)
I dont know how long it will be before The Mister moves out with me. I wish he would just move out with me now but he has made it clear that's not gonna happen just yet. Where we live (which is understandable...) A) Our housie is his mate and B) his parents own the place. He doesn't want to further upset the apple cart See, I expect it to only be a few weeks... at most! But, I don't want to disappoint myself either... something I almost always do. Which is also coincidentally is the reason for alot of my problems in this relationship.
Hmm relationship - Finally after well... 6 months I think I can call it that. Finally!! You know what - Valentines Day is in 4 days.. and while I am sure (because I know me!) I am going to subcinsciously hope for some kind of sweet recognition from The Mister of the day... if it doesn't happen.. I'm pretty sure this yr I'm not gonna mind so much providing we spend it together (why wouldn't I - we are together everyday anyhow) because - well, I have him. And that's enough. It's enough always but ESPECIALLY this year - it's more than enough.
Alrighty then - he has just brought me an amazing curry dinner so I'm gonna go for now but might be back later.
til then ;)
Quik catch up.. (I wrote this yesterday, but didn't have time to upload it then. Perhaps I will post todays, tomorrow?)
I told myself I'd write in this blog everyday knowing full well I wouldn't lol.. Yeah, I know me.
Stuff and things have happened since my last entry. I've played 4 more live games. Came 3rd in the first of them at Thirlmere , lost out in one at Penrith then played a cash game or timed tourno at Long Jetty and got $13 of my 22 back, played at Bateau Bay and made 2nd table then lost. I know you can't win every game but I haven't been playing well in these last few games. I start out ok then I lose my grip. Whether it be that I am distracted by the outlandish shenanigans that have gone on at some places, be it arguments, a girl crying at the table, a brick smashing the pub window, thrown by a disgruntled drunk or someone being a tossed and throwing me off. But these are things I have to learn not to pay attention to.
I also need to learn more, much more about the game. I have my Full Tilt account sitting there, which I have used but a handfull of times. Play money of course. I'm not ready to start playing with real money yet. The Mister informed me of a website of tutorials which also included a quiz where upon completion, you receive $50 credited into your preferred poker account. I've looked at it a few times. Read a bit of the tutorials, but I need to be able to sit down without distraction and go through them then do the quiz in one sitting. First, I have to sort some other parts of my life out.
I'm moving soon. In 2 days in fact. For reasons I choose not to go into online, the arrangement I had where I've been living is hasn't worked out. Today The Mister and I are working out where to go from here. We have an idea but are pre-organising a few things first. It's bitter-sweet really. But will be more sweet than bitter in no time. Life is what you make of it, right?
I'm not sure how much time there will be for poker over the next few weeks but once things are a little more settled I'll be concentrating on it alot more. I quite enjoyed going to Star City Casino the other night with the boys, even though I wasn't playing. It gave me a chance to see what goes on and enough of a taste to know what to expect when I am ready to play there. I've only known Texas Hold 'em for around 2 weeks now and I think it's safe to say, I'm hooked.
LATER THAT DAY.....
Okaaay.... So got it sorted, back in the van we go. Sure it's a bit of a downgrade. Ok a lot of a downgrade BUT.. We can do it up and make it our awesome little home. I'm determined to make it super cool. Paint it up, make curtains, build a yard for chewy...
Hmmm, I'm thinking - MEXICAN STYLE ;)
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