I don’t know…

filtered-flowersI was walking through the field in front of the park I usually visit and I realized I absolutely did not want to be there. I wanted to be safe at home, curled up in my swing chair right now. Short of a teleportation device, that wasn’t happening. I managed to keep on walking.

Tears prickle my eyes for no reason multiple times a day and I keep hoping I won’t start sobbing, which would be embarrassing if I was out, and often causes a headache.

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to kill myself. And yet I have a completely detailed suicide plan. And Colin’s away and I got a sudden idea that I could implement it before he gets home. I won’t.

I ate a handful of crackers for lunch today and nothing at all yesterday because I’m not hungry. To be fair, I had packed an apple for lunch yesterday but there was an elderly man rummaging through the garbage and I figured he could use it more than me.

And I’m so very tired. All. The. Time. I wake up from a nap and feel like I should be sleeping again.

So much of my future is up in the air. I have a floor plan that likely looks like my unit but I have no idea if it’s accurate or not. I have a move in date but what if my building wants me out on the 31st? I’ve found several apartments for Colin and he’s turned them all down. I have no idea how much a moving van costs and am too scared to find out.

Will I make friends there? Will they be the sort of friend who hang out with you and do stuff together? Will they accept me for me? Autistic, asexual, panromantic, vegan, atheist. I don’t want to hear “I like you but…”

I have a psychiatrist appointment on Friday and I have a sinking feeling my answer to “And how’s Kathleen been?” will be “I don’t know”. But I really don’t know. And I’m going to take out the garbage and wash some dishes because leaving them as is will not help my mood. And hopefully my doctor will have a better idea to deal with this than I do.

glitter-in-my-hair

Me with glitter gel in my hair. Because depression’s on the inside, not on the outside

And the official date is…

My Mom and I went to my new neighbourhood last Sunday. She drove slowly past my new building as I alternated between taking pictures and checking out the plaza across the street. It was everything Google Maps showed me and more. I hadn’t realized there was a dentist office in there. Then we went downtown and walked around, meandering through shops and stopping for a yummy lunch in a small cafe. Their curried soup was heavenly. Then we went home.

I was on a walk in the Cedar Valley Conservation Area on Wednesday when I got a call from an unknown number. I know people say just to ignore them but every agency I belong to uses unknown or private numbers and I’d miss a lot if I ignored them. This time it was a lady in the housing department telling me the official move in date is October 1st.

It is so nice to have a set date to aim for. To know when to start packing and calling moving companies. That being said, moving is going to be a nightmare with everyone moving in on the same day!

Colin is still determined to stay here but at least there’s time now to let the professionals talk him into something more affordable. And one agency we belong to is sending someone out to help him organize and clean up his stuff, which will make moving so much easier. He’s a packrat and if I try to help, he blames anything missing on me. Meanwhile a stranger will only be here a short time and then she’ll be gone. He can blame her but it’ll be pointless and she’ll never know.

I found a bathroom set at Homesense today. My little bit of excitement. I wanted a set with a toothbrush holder and most places simply don’t have them. Maybe everyone’s using electric toothbrushes? But I found one painted a deep gold (almost bronze) and it will match my shower curtain and wall art so it’s perfect.

144 days left until I move. I have a feeling the time is going to fly by!

new-building-2

And nobody knew…

CN: Frank discussion of suicide

I had a suicide plan and now I had a note, one which L dared me to write. I said no one cared. He said prove it. And so I did. Here it is…

“I’m nothing. I’m not enough. Lenny loves me but only as a good friend and that’s not enough for a relationship. But that’s as much as I can love. I loved him when he was bi-gender and love him now. We were going to get married in Cardiff at city hall and go for a hot air balloon ride where I could see the ocean and go to the Doctor Who museum and live in Richmond but I’m not enough. I can’t love deep enough and I feel like my heart’s been ripped in two.

I’m a liability at work. I don’t move fast enough and I don’t have the fine motor skills to pour coffee fast enough. And I get overwhelmed by loud noises and the headset terrifies me and I have meltdowns sometimes and maybe it’s the wrong job but the hours are good for Colin and I’m trying my hardest but it isn’t enough because I’m not enough.

I’m too autistic to make friends and every attempt I try ends with “we’ll have to get together someday” but someday never comes and most of the messages I send get ignored. But I’m not autistic enough to get help and I’m lonely and I want a hug so bad but who the hell would want to come over just to hug a freak like me.

I’ve lost so many people because I’m just not enough and I’m boring and a bother and I have conversations wrong. Colin’s special interest is politics but mine’s scrapbooking and who the fuck wants to talk about scrapbooking? No one even wants to look at my albums.

I’ve been crying for two days and nights now and Lenny says to stay hydrated, which seems pointless, but going without food and water makes my headache worse and I’m a wimp.

I don’t know why I’m posting because I don’t matter but Lenny says people will care. Honestly, I’m not worth caring about. I’m not going to kill myself because that would hurt and I’m a wimp and I can’t sleep forever, I keep waking up, and my head’s been hurting for two days. And I’m sorry for bothering everyone.”

I deserve better blank

Lenny turned out to be right. One hundred and thirty-nine people replied. And then my sister called and asked me if I’d go to the hospital if she drove me. I agreed and she left work and drove right over, which was a good thing because I’d lied about not committing suicide.

I had been miserable for months and was having more and more meltdowns at work but I kept slogging along trying to be normal enough for everyone. My family knew I was more quiet and had been pulling away. They decided I just wasn’t interested in them. In reality I was pulling away from everyone… hiding within myself.

Please, please pay close attention to the people around you. Be concerned if they’re pulling away for no apparent reason or if they claim, over and over, that nothing’s wrong, they’re just tired. And if they suddenly become cheerful after being low and quiet be very concerned, especially if they’re giving their stuff away like Santa’s Recycling Cousin. Let them know you’re not going to judge and you know they aren’t doing well then get ready to listen. I have a resources page which has suicide lines from all over the world (among other resources). If you’re in the States, please don’t automatically call 911. If the person you’re getting admitted doesn’t have enough insurance or has none, you are setting them up for a nightmare of debt. If you’re in Canada (or another country with universal health care) dial away. The worst I can say about the hospital was it was boring and it’s irritating buttering your toast with a spoon.

The thing that helped me the most during that dark time was adopting two kittens (your mileage may vary). Suddenly I was needed. The kittens would suckle on a stuffed animal or my cat Blackie and, when they got too intense I’d move them to their food bowls. This happened both day and night. At 5am they wanted to go on the balcony (which I’d kitten proofed) and I’d have a mug of hot chocolate and watch them run around. I’d catch them falling off the table or bedside table, snuggle them when they were sleepy, and toss them toys when they were bouncy. They were my reason to live. No one else needed me as much as them.

Find something to do, whether it’s adopting kittens, starting a hobby, joining a group, getting a gym membership. Anything to keep you busy. And see a doctor about medication. You wouldn’t tell a diabetic to just will diabetes away. Your illness cannot be willed away either. Antidepressants can and do help, although you might need to try more than one.

And remember, you are brave and you are strong. You have to be because you’re still here. If you need someone to talk to, my inbox is always open.

me-on-the-oshawa-trail-2

Me now

Growing old…

There was a faint growl behind me and I turned around to find Angel standing on her hind legs, front paws on the top mattress. She can’t jump that high anymore but wanted to sink into my memory foam topper and rest her 14 year old joints. Mornings are tough, I get that. I gently eased her onto the bed where she slowly lay down, hissing and growling the whole time, looking around as if she was trying to find who was attacking her, as if age could be seen. All I could do was drape a small blanket over her hips. She hissed for a second then stopped when it didn’t hurt. Several minutes later she relaxed and stretched out as the heat soothed her joints. I’ve looked into pain medication but cats don’t metabolise it properly so heat’s her only option.

Oreo, our 12 year old needs a lift onto the bed too and he occasionally starts wailing because he can’t see his people and he’s lost in the middle of the living room. Lost despite the fact we’ve lived here since 2012. I carry him into my room and place him onto the bed, where he snuggles down and immediately falls asleep.

And then there’s Blackie, our 13 year old. She’s lost so much weight again this winter but hasn’t gained it back, despite me feeding her wet cat food twice a day… alone in the washroom so no one can steal it from her. She’s cheerful as heck though, racing to the front door so she can sneak into the hallway and climbing all over my computer desk (usually when I’m writing). I pet her and feel every bone in her spine plus her hip bones and she purrs loudly because she’s getting petted.

I hate watching them grow old. The pain, the senility, the knobby bones, the occasional bout of incontinence (thanks Oreo). I know no one lives forever but they’re so small and innocent that aging just feels unfair.

I don’t know how long I’ll have with them but I’ll cherish every minute and know that whatever amount of time we have will be too short.

20190503_133936_hdr

The moving Colin blues…

I always figured the hardest part of moving is the packing (and unpacking). Now I’ve found a new frustration. Colin.

I love Colin dearly but he’s turning simple apartment hunting into a nightmare. He has several agencies helping him, which is great. The first unit they showed him was supposed to be a room with meals included. It was in a long term care facility and he’d have two other roommates and not even a curtain to give him some privacy. There wasn’t room for any belongings either. We all agreed that was not a good fit.

My last attempt to help him was when I found a gorgeous one bedroom apartment for $675/m. It was a ground floor unit and included access to the backyard including the deck and the jacuzzi. Yeah… a jacuzzi.

Colin turned it down because it was a “basement apartment” then proceeded to explain that every apartment in a house was a basement apartment, no matter what floor it was on, because the landlord could just say he had a family member who needs the unit and he’d be out in two months. Which is theoretically correct but isn’t that common. Colin kept insisting it was and after he yelled for a decent amount of time I told him I was no longer helping.

John Howard Society found him a room yesterday and he immediately took a look. It was close to shopping and, at $600/m, definitely affordable. Colin just turned it down because now he wants to get a full time job and stay here. At first he talked about working construction but someone (other than me) must have talked to him because now he’s talking about Dollarama.

I want him to find a place so badly so that he has somewhere safe to rest his head once I’m in my own place, and so I don’t have to worry about him with no apartment while I’m moving. But I can’t force him to take a place, no matter how much I want to. He’s a person with strong opinions and is determined this is his best course of action.

The John Howard worker is still looking for a place for him. I just hope he takes the next place.

screenshot-12

The apartment I found