You are alone

What I liked most about the idea of posting here was the idea that you are not alone. Well I am. I haven’t spoken to another adult all day, just kids. A couple of very generic texts from people looking for information but that’s it. Not one asking how I am. Possibly because no-one knows how lonely I am. I give off the air of being very happy, self contained, together, but I am everything but. I crave the love and affection of others like a drug but these days it’s not easy in coming. There are hundreds on numbers in my phone but today not a single one of them thought about me enough to want to call me. Today and many other days.

We’re all so interconnected these days so there really is nothing worse then a non-ringing phone, a text beep that never comes, an e-mail account that stays stubbornly without any new messages no matter how many times you check it. Then your heart leaps for something that turn out to be a newsletter you subscribed to, or worse still spam.

And that is what I suppose this post is. A suggestion. Take a random friend, one who you haven’t asked in ages “how are you doing” or ” do you want to go for a coffee” and just do it. Pick a person who you know is going through rough personal times and check up on them. You never know whose life you’re inadvertently changing, making better, making worthwhile.

Even leave them a comment, sad that it is to have to ask for such things from strangers. But you’re not strangers are you? We’re all here for a reason.

Bad Parenting

When the kids have gone to school and it’s just me and my 2 year old boy, I go back to bed.  I sleep deeply until 11am, leaving my poor kid downstairs on his own.  He could get into the knife drawer or choke on a bead and I’d be none the wiser, I’m too busy prioritizing my sleep over the well-being of my kid.  Once I woke up to find him gone. He was across the road in a stranger’s house.  The man told me he knocked on the door but got no reply.  I lied and told him I was in the shower and I was so ashamed.

I feel so guilty about it, it eats me up all the time how I can be so selfish about sleep.  Sometimes I just feel like I can’t stay awake, like my eyes are filled with glue and if I stay awake I’ll want to kill myself by lunchtime.  I hate this tiredness but I can’t blame it because it’s really me.  It’s really me and I don’t want to change.

I’m such a selfish bitch.  My mother was right all along.
Man, it feels strange to publish a brain dump on the internet like this.  I should probably open a window and light a match.

The Origin Story

Where The Lives Of Others comes from?

Here:

http://rickoshea.wordpress.com/2008/05/31/credit-where-credits-due/

Who’s bright idea was it?

My partner has been ill all week, and so I’m sleeping in the guest room to give them space, and to not get breathed upon, and therefore pick up the same flu bug. But I must say, I’ve also had the best sleep in my life this week. I dont have someone tugging at the covers in the middle of the night because they’re suddenly chilled. Nor do I have to worry about any noises; snoring, coughing, sniffing from a runny nose etc. I also don’t have to endure the usual tossing and turning of the person in the bed beside me, as they flip and rotate like a fish on a hot griddle, trying to maintain some level of comfort from the aches and pains of too much work and old age settling in.

Who said we have to sleep in the same bed just because we’re a couple? I’d like to meet the knucklehead that invented this torture and give them a piece of my mind – or one night with a restless sleeper.

If movies are correct, people often slept in separate rooms, not just separate beds, and shared a bed when they were feeling randy. I know my grandmother slept in the guest room due to my grandfather’s snoring and I’ve experienced snoring loud enough to travel down the hallway, when I shared accomodations at a ski resort with another couple.

So yes, who’s bright idea that we share a bed once we’re ‘hooked up’ with someone? Stupid it seems to me. No wonder half the world’s population is chronically sleep deprived.

rough morning

whiny whinging rant ahead read at your own risk.

-i hate my hair. not curly, not straight. wont do a damned thing and the color is all wrong
-dribbled toothpaste on my shirt so had to go change
-tried on three pairs of jeans (including one i just bought last night) and chucked the lot of them into the corner – they all make my ass look like a refridgerator and they’re too wide at the bottom. i wanted to show off my mid-calf high converse chuck shoes.. didnt work. went back to my grubby, too light colored straighter leg, too short jeans and the same shirt i wore yesterday and the day before that
-am not used to wearing makeup, but have been putting a wee bit on every day for two weeks. was rushed for time (thanks to the toothpaste and jeans dilemma) and wasnt going to bother.. but am now not used to seeing my face without it. so, put some on
-have discovered i’m not used to wearing black denims any more. used to wear them exclusively (make my ass look smaller and combine with a bright color on top, balances me out). i’ve worn my ‘too light colored’ jeans for nearly a year so now black look too dark. sigh
-have also discovered that nearly everything in my wardrobe is either green (khaki) or brown. my hair has changed color as well as texture. used to be dark blond (like honey). it grew back in nearly black. Khaki looks disgusting on me now. brown makes me look tired and worn out. i’m now wearing black and warm grey but only have about 3 shirts to rotate for the entire work week
-have also discovered that gaining 20 extra pounds is not a good thing. nothing fits anymore. usually weight would go to my ass. not anymore. its settled around my middle and my shoulders and i’m gettng those arms that flap when you wave. so.. all my tshirts are too tight.

i think i’m having an identity crisis today. i think i’ve been having one for months actually. its not me i see in the mirror anymore – someone has invaded my body, plumped it up where it should be small, dyed my hair, given me a bad perm and only permed half of it, and has left blotches on my neck that werent there two years ago.  I know why i’m stressed about how i look today. i’m supposed to go to a sound check party tonight to see State of Shock and i’m freaked about looking good. which is weird cause its not like i even know much about them let alone am ga-ga over any of the guys in the band. maybe its an age thing – i want to look as good as people 2/3 my age.

//end of whiny whinging rant

The Links Of Others

We’re getting a lot of attention over the last few hours.

Firstly a huge thank you to all who have linked to or written about us so far, and a huge thank you to those who are considering writing here.

http://monscooch.com/2008/05/29/anonymity-is-the-truest-expression-of-altruism/

http://styletreaty.com/?p=696

http://anneelicious.wordpress.com/2008/05/29/the-lives-of-others/

http://darraghdoyle.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-just-want-to-say-well-done.html

Rough

Sometimes when i get bored 
i like to pare the callous skin off my heels with a sharp knife
and chew on it.

-Photo source-

in limbo

i’m 46 yrs old and nearly three years ago my doctor found a lump in my right breast on a routine exam. I went for a mammogram and the lump didnt show up, so they did an ultrasound, only to discover 5 more lumps. I had biopsies and 5 of the lumps came back as cancerous – stage 2/3. The whirlwind began shortly afterwards: radical mastectomy with an implant for reconstruction, followed by 4 months of chemotherapy and then…. well, its the ‘and then’ that i still havent figured out.

they say everyone is different going through chemo, but my experience was that i was one step from dying of poison – in fact i ended up in hospital for a week, with an infection that nearly did take my life. It was so bad that i didnt have to do my last chemo session – i guess they figured if they hadn’t killed the cancer by that point, it really wouldnt matter. Because i was so sick for those 4 months, my life was a shambles. i had no energy to do anything except eat and sleep, and i naively thought once the treatments were done, you’d build your body back up, gain the weight back, and be back to your old self a la Lance Armstrong and his bike race. Boy was i wrong. My doc kept telling me that most of her patients took nearly two years to recover fully and be ‘their old selves’.

Well, its been, as i said, about 2.5 yrs. I still only work 7 hr days as i dont have the energy to work 8, then go home and work some more. (how come women get to do double shifts?). My home life is good – i have a fantastic partner who has learned to take one look at me and see the fatigue in which case we usually eat out that night, or order in, so i cant complain that way. But the rest of my life is topsy turvy and nobody seems to ‘get it’ when i try to explain what i mean… so this blog might be a great way for me to sound off!

i think going through an experience like cancer changes you – i had a good outlook on life already, i know where i’m going when i die and i was living my days to the fullest, so i didnt have this ‘near death’ conversion experience that many do. as well, i’m ‘the healthiest person’ most of my friends know; i read every label, eat organic if possible and dont eat crap, so my eating habits didnt drastically change either like many cancer patients do. but… once all the treatments were done and i started feeling better, i was restless. i still am. there are soooo many things i want to do with my life and i feel i cant – work is interferring. i have limited stores of energy these days – residual effects I think – and so i have to pace myself or i get so fatigued it takes me 2 or 3 days to recover.

i want to take music lessons and finally learn how to play the guitar that has sit in my bedroom since i was 15. i want to expand on my photography and start showing more of my work in coffee shops and perhaps smaller art galleries. i’ve done abit of this in the past – but it takes huge amounts of energy to make the rounds and keep on people to show your stuff. I want to get into radio – the local university needs volunteers – so much so that they’re willing to work around my crazy work schedule (i have to do road trips at the end of each month). I’ve actually gone and done training at the station – the next step is to make a 10 minute demo tape so they can proof it and approve me – then find me a time slot. (but i think i’m scared to commit to it which is maybe why i’ve not booked the demo time yet). My partner wants me to do more hiking, biking, canoeing and camping as summer fast approaches. And i still have to look after the house, weed the garden, do the grocery shopping, etc… where do people get the energy to keep it all together???

i feel torn between the things i ‘have’ to do and the things i so desperately want to do. i want to travel. i want to follow my favorite band around and do mulitple concerts like a geek But work comes first, and i hate it. i didnt hate it before i had cancer. i accepted it as part of life, just ‘what we all do’. I feel sometimes like i’m on the edge of a cliff and want to jump off – knowing that the world of ‘must do’ is behind me and if i jump i can do whatever i feel like – a new world of ‘anything is possible’. I feel like a child sometimes who is told by adults that i have to grow up and become responsible and i dont want to! i feel like Neo and that i’ve taken the wrong pill and my eyes are open now and i cant go back. i dont feel llike i fit into the world any more… and yet i must find a way to fit in. everyone says i must  sigh. so yes, sometimes i feel like i’m in limbo. sometimes i feel resentful of it all. sometimes i just dont have the energy to deal with it.. and always, i wonder if other cancer ’survivors’ feel the same way, and if so, for how long? (and god i hate that term! cancer ’survivor’. but thats for another blog)

You Are Not Alone

I’m reading a book at the moment. The author, in his brilliant introduction, talks about how as a writer he writes to illustrate to people that they are not alone.

That’s what this is about too. So I thought I might collect some experiences from friends over the last few years and list them here. Not all are mine, but all are real.

You are not alone…

…if you ever tried to drink yourself happy

…if you ever actually thought about throwing yourself in front of a car

…if you hate a member of your family

…if you hate your boy/girlfriend

…if you hate yourself

…if you ever wrote something stupid about someone you loved that you’re embarassed about now

…if you ever let someone get so far under your skin that you felt like you were about to burst

…if you felt like killing your boss or a co-worker

…if money has ever gotten you depressed to the point where you thought you couldn’t go on

…if you’ve ever had your heart broken by a bastard/bitch

…if you ever wondered if you’d ever really be happy

…if you ever took advantage of someone and felt bad about it afterwards, or didn’t as the case may be

…if you’ve ever been hopelessly in love with someone you couldn’t be with

…if you ever thought no-one cared about you and no-one would notice if you just slipped off the face of the planet

That’s just a start. You’re not the only one in that position. You are not alone.

I am Phoebe Masterson

And this is my story

Sometimes the anonymous doesn’t help

Sometimes you need to dive in to the cold, bracing water and feel the shock of the ice

So, I am Phoebe Masterson. This is my story.

I hate my life. I find everyday a struggle.

From the moment my phone starts that tedious, bip, bip bip, bip bip bip, alarm in the morning to the moment I set the alarm the next night, I hate every minute of my day.

I have no courage, so I keep living it.

I should end or break or run. But I don’t.

I continue, battling things that mean nothing, wishing I had more time and more space, but still living in this stupid box

And I over compensate for my misery with stupid behaviour.

I drink everyday. I would drink more but the fear of the repercussions stops me. I spend almost a year hungover every single morning. I couldn’t bear the thought of not drinking. In fact on the way home, I start to think about that first drink.

But I don’t accept that I have a problem. Maybe I have a limp, but my leg ain’t broken.

I hate the stupid Americanised world we live in, where you become an alcoholic. And then you have to live in a stupid world of denial and repression. I drink. I like to drink. I function. I don’t fucking care what you think.

I struggle though. But not because of drinking. I struggle because I close myself off to everyone. I can’t bear other people poking through my life. In fact, I hate social outings, I hate the false laughter and the stupid chats and the aftermath of – I never liked her and he’s a dickhead – and so on.

It’s bullshit. It’s tiring and tedious.

I can’t find pleasure anywhere any more. Life is awful.

And the worst thing? I know I’m not alone. I know that the same thoughts and fears run through most peoples heads.

I am Phoebe Masterson and I hate my life.

Or?

Secrecy

There is a funny tone in the comments here – and in the most recent post…

It seems like some people don’t get it.

They don’t get the importance of anonymity, they don’t get the power of a secret told but held

It is liberating to let out the dark sadness, but not everyone needs to

Equally, others do need to, whether they lack the emotional support network or the comfort of confidence in their friends, this blog offers a space to vent, to share, but not reveal.

So, if you don’t like it, or don’t get it. Be patient. Think kindly of the emotionally crippled who limp into daylight here and leave a little of their burden.

Or don’t. Don’t read. Don’t play this game. Maybe you don’t need to.

 

Others do.

Check out this funny clip I found on youtube…

….oops, sorry wrong blog.

The Undiscovered Country

Part of the reason behind the formation of this blog was the Virgin Territory referred to in the previous post.

It seems to be a common unspoken reality of modern life that no one really shares all of their inner thoughts. Even in an age of interaction where we can ring, text, skype, im, blog, post messages and correspond in ways that never existed, it seems we all have our secret lives.

Anonymous blogs, where your friends know it’s you. Hard to pour out your stock of dirty secrets.

That’s why The Lives of Others exists.

I coud be anyone. I could say anything. And a small part of the whirling cloud of secret lies in my head can lift and I can feel a little lighter as I go through the day.

This is what confession was for, before we all lost faith.

This is what God used to do before we stopped believing in him.

There is no God and so we blog.

 

virgin territory

Nobody knows who I am. Nobody knows who I am fully. Even those I’ve spent lifetimes with and my family. There are continents of untouched territory about me that they don’t even dream of. Am I the only one?